


Twisted Every Way

by Imogen_LeFay



Category: Glee
Genre: An Opera Ghost!, Angst, Blaine Anderson & Rachel Berry Friendship, Future Fic, Infidelity, M/M, Stalking, Super Dysfunctional Klaine, Theater - Freeform, except not really, seblaine endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22837546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imogen_LeFay/pseuds/Imogen_LeFay
Summary: The last ten years have not been kind. Close to financial ruin, Blaine struggles with what seems like a last chance - starring in Kurt's first show, trying to make it the success they need to save their finances, and maybe their struggling marriage.But mysterious notes and an increasing number of accidents make him wonder, if he isn't risking a lot more than money.Lost, scared, and lonely, Blaine finds an unexpected source of comfort when Sebastian steps back into his life as a choreography coach, promising to get him ready for opening night. Between the looming threat of ruin, a stalker in the shadows, and a coach who still gets under his skin way too easily, Blaine will be lucky to make it out of this in one piece...
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe, Rachel Berry/Jesse St. James
Comments: 177
Kudos: 183





	1. These Things Do Happen

**Author's Note:**

> So much for writing something happy.
> 
> Welcome to the newest plot idea that not only won't leave my head, but also won't let me be productive in different ways.  
> This is an actual future fic, set 10 years after the "Future" scenes from the Glee finale. Canon compliant and everything (though I'll be damned if I bother to read up anything on season 6, because, like. No. Just, no.) Except, after the super happy everything-is-wonderful finale, things took a nosedive like, immediately. Basically, the last ten years have not been kind to Blaine, or Kurt, or Rachel (though she's recovered most). Ten years of bad luck of course also don't make a very happy or functional marriage.
> 
> Anyway, let's dive right in! (and don't worry, Sebastian will step in next chapter)  
> (and no, I do not understand choreography, why?)

* * *

“From the top!”

The music started up, and Blaine only had time to take one deep breath before he started moving. To the left, turn, end up in front of the chorus, matching their movements. A few steps in front, to the right, to the left, snap his finger to the beat, every movement precise like clockwork, and as the brass instruments joined in with the rest, he took a breath and began to sing.

The song started out simple, but as the notes went higher, it got faster, and so did his movements. Around him, the background dancers fell into a more complicated routine, as he stood in front, lamenting the change of times. The first stance went fine, as did the chorus, as did the second stance. The bridge got higher, around him the dancers turned into dervishes, and as he wound up to the highest note-

“No, no, no, _stop_!”

Everyone around him halted, and Blaine found himself gasping for breath, looking around the auditorium. He looked to where the director and his crew were sitting, and especially at the man who’d spoken. Chandler Kiehl had managed a few successful productions, although Blaine had always assumed that had more to do with his brothers’ money and instincts than any own merit. Now, he was looking at Blaine critically.

“I’m sorry, didn’t you check the latest update on the lyrics? The bridge text was changed. You need to pay better attention than this if this show is going to be successful.”

There was quiet groaning from the background dancers as well as from the director, but nobody put it better than Jesse St. James.

“Are you kidding me? You interrupt him for that?” he asked, glaring at the man beside him. “The text was fine, our main problem is the damn choreography, which for once was actually looking good.”

“Well, that can be argued,” Chandler said, rolling his eyes. “Not to mention that the singing was just a bit pitchy.”

Blaine clenched a fist, trying to calm down. Count to ten, and all that. Of course, Chandler was never happy with anything he did. But well, he wasn’t standing here singing and dancing his heart out for Chandler’s benefit.

As Jesse and Chandler squabbled, Blaine let his eyes wander over the auditorium. It was mostly empty, there were only a few other actors waiting for their scene to be rehearsed. But then, at the far end, Blaine noticed another figure.

Tall and slender, pale and sharp, watching the proceedings with a furrowed brow, stood Kurt. The appointment with the bank must have gone shorter than expected, and Blaine felt his heart grow heavy at the thought that this was probably not a good development. There hadn’t been many of those lately. They desperately needed a break. And with an internal sigh, Blaine realized that he’d have to be the one to bring it about.

“Look, I don’t care about the damn lyrics, let’s just go through it with the last version. What even changed, two words? Why are we even _talking_ about this?” Jesse threw up his hands as if this whole argument was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard, which could only be true if he never listened to himself talk – although that, too, would explain a lot. “Everyone, back to your positions!”

With another look to Kurt, still standing up there with an inscrutable expression on his face, Blaine turned back and got back into place.

“From the top!”

He started again, moving through the steps and the song. This time, there was no interruption. The bridge ended, even the highest notes came out clear and correct. Of course, it wasn’t the singing that was the problem with this number, no matter what Chandler said. The bridge led to an instrumental solo, and some of the more challenging choreography in the whole show. And of course, the damn turn.

As the instrumental rose again in tension, Blaine felt his mouth go dry. He tried to keep up, tried not to tense up in anticipation. Then, the beat, the turn…

A surge of pain shot through his left leg, but the turn was… not on point, but almost, and certainly it had to be good enough? Blaine pushed the thought aside, kept moving, started singing again, as the pain subsided. And then, finally, he belted out the last notes.

He made it through.

Blaine stood still for a moment, allowing himself to gasp for breath. Not perfect, certainly, but this had to be the best run through the number they managed today. Slowly, he looked up to where Kurt was standing in the audience, watching him, his expression still as transparent as a brick wall. Frozen, he waited for judgment, not sure where it would come from.

“Well, it’s progress,” Jesse said. “The vocals are fine, at least.”

“The choreography is a disaster,” Chandler replied. “And he’s not making any progress there.”

“That’s not true, that definitely looked worse two weeks ago,” Jesse replied. As far as defenses went, it wasn’t exactly glowing, but Blaine still felt grateful for even these scraps. Of course, Jesse’s judgement didn’t really matter, nor did Chandler’s. Only one opinion truly mattered.

Chandler turned around, following his gaze, until his eyes stopped at Kurt. “Well, what do you say? It’s your show, after all. And while I know you have a bit of a bias, being married and all… do you really think this is the performance your show deserves? What do _you_ say, Kurt?”

Blaine closed his eyes for a moment, hoping for something positive.

Kurt hesitated, but then he sighed. “You’re still too slow on the turn,” he said. “You have to train harder, that has to come exactly on point. It looks like a mess if you turn half a beat late.”

Blaine felt his heart drop, although he had to admit he wasn’t completely surprised. There was always something to be improved, something that was just not good enough. It was frustrating.

“I’m trying,” he said, failing to keep his disappointment out of his voice.

“Well, _trying_ is obviously not enough,” Chandler interrupted. “Or do you honestly think people will show up and pay money to see you _trying_?”

“Chandler, that’s enough,” Kurt said, his voice sharp. “Why don’t you check on the costumes? I’ll take it from here.”

Chandler rolled his eyes, but nodded and stood up from his chair, making room for Kurt, before walking off stage.

Blaine glared after him for a moment, before turning back to his husband. “I _am_ trying,” he repeated.

“I know you are,” Kurt said, “and I know you can do better. Just remember how important this is. The show has to be _perfect_.” He paused, as if he wanted to add something else. Instead, he turned to the rest of the group. “From the top.”

Blaine turned away as he went back to his position, trying to school his face into an expression of neutrality. It definitely had become easier with practice. He didn’t need anyone to realize how hard he took Kurt’s words. Before he turned around, ready to start again, he made sure to summon up a show face. Again, the music played, and again, he fell into the dance routine. Turning, snapping, dancing, and then he started singing. All through the song, through the bridge, and then, the turn…

“Again!”

Too slow. He gritted his teeth, pushing down the pain that hadn’t quite flared up, more threatened to strike, before he got back on position. From the top, again. To the left, turn, end up in front of the chorus. A few steps in front, to the right, to the left, snap his finger, starting to sing…

He was half through the first stance, when he heard it. A snapping sound, maybe like a rope, was the only warning he got. On instinct, he stumbled backwards. The next second, the impact of several pounds crashing onto the stage made him lose his balance, and he could just throw out an arm to catch his fall. He gasped for breath, the orchestra stopping around him, a few chorus members screaming. In front of him was one of the sandbags used as counterweights for the scenery, right on the point where he would have stood just now.

He could barely breathe, staring at the sandbag, shaking. Somewhere at the back of his mind he knew he was lucky to be alive. How fast this could have ended everything. He closed his eyes, and for a second he saw headlights coming towards them, Rachel’s fingernails digging into his arm as she screamed, and-

“Are you okay?!”

Kurt’s frantic voice brought him back to reality, where he was still sitting on a stage, shaking so hard that he could barely speak. His husband was kneeling beside him, among the chaos of chorus members fleeing from the stage. Kurt pulled him to his feet and down into the audience as well, pushing him into one of the plush seats. Jesse, too, walked up to him, asking if he was alright.

The whole world felt too sharp, too bright, too loud.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, interrupting Kurt’s questions.

“An accident,” Kurt said immediately. “One of the ropes must have snapped. We should send the janitors through checking everything before we continue. Are you on this, Jesse?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Jesse said. “I think we can change the schedule, put your scene back and return to it tomorrow.”

“It’s fine,” Kurt said, “we’ll take a break until the janitors checked everything, then we can continue. Right?”

Blaine stared at him, barely believing what he was hearing. It felt like a hole had opened in the ground right under him, or maybe really inside his own mind.

“Are you serious?” he asked. “You think I just go back on stage and sing and dance like nothing happened? That could have _killed_ me.”

“That was an accident,” Kurt said, frowning. “These things happen.”

“Happen… these things…” Blaine shook his head, staring at Kurt incredulously. “These things happen quite a lot here, Kurt! Since we started rehearsing, things like this happen every single week. How often has scenery come down? What about the woodwork that collapsed under too much weight? What about the theater dagger that was replaced with a real knife?”

“So, this isn’t the most modern theater,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes, “it’s not like we can afford a Broadway venue. And the knife was a bad joke, and so obvious that nobody would have mistaken it for the prop. You’re making a thing out of noting!”

“Am I?” Blaine asked. He felt unreal, his voice jumping up almost an octave. It felt like the situation was slipping right out of his hands, like he was being hysterical, and he didn’t know how to make it stop…

Jesse was looking between them, a concerned look on his face. “I really think we should take a break here,” he said.

“For the last time, Blaine, _nobody_ is going after you,” Kurt said. “You’re making things up in your head. Accidents do happen. Stop acting like Carlotta!”

It was just a step too far. Blaine was out of his chair, pushing both Kurt and Jesse aside. “You know what? As long as these accidents keep happening?” He gestured to himself. “As long as these things keep happening, _this thing_ is _not_ happening!”

He ignored the way everyone was looking at him, the whispering between the rest of the cast and crew, as he stormed out. He could hear Kurt protesting behind him, but he didn’t even care. He had to get out.

* * *

Blaine’s first instinct had been to return to their apartment, hiding out in their bedroom and waiting for the worst of his outburst to pass. But that sounded too obvious, certainly Kurt would expect that, and for now he really needed a few moments for himself. He figured, his dressing room was the place they’d look for him last. At least it gave him a bit of privacy as he tried to process his feelings.

No matter what anyone said, he was sure he hadn’t overreacted. If that thing had hit him... He shuddered at the thought. Better to put it aside. With a sigh, he sat down in front of the mirror. It was bigger than any mirror he ever owned, and Kurt had been thrilled about it. Blaine always thought it was too much. And just maybe he had convinced one of the stagehands to hang it off the wall once, just to make sure it didn’t hide any secret passages.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. He frowned, wondering whether he should say something. He hadn’t expected Kurt to actually come after him, much less find him here. He wasn’t sure whether he was ready for a conversation, not before cooling down a bit more. It probably would be easier to stay quiet and pretend not to be here… But he had hardly made that decision, when there was another knock, followed by a voice.

“I know you’re in here, Blaine Warbler, and I’m coming in, so you better be decent!”

Blaine sighed in relief, as the door opened, and Rachel stepped inside. She looked at him with something concerningly close to pity as she came closer.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "What about your little ones?"

“Beth is babysitting them, she wants some bonding time with her niblings. Besides, Jesse told me what happened, so of course I needed to check on you. How are you doing?”

Blaine sighed. “I’m okay,” he said, “it didn’t hit me.”

Somehow, Rachel saw right through him. She ignored his words and came closer to hug him. Blaine put his arms around her, resting his face against her shoulders. Strange, how something as simple as a hug made such a difference. Warmth seemed to spread through him, and he felt his eyes well up with tears. This is what he’d needed. Thank god for Rachel…

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Rachel said. “That must have been scary.”

“I should be used to it by now,” Blaine replied.

Rachel stepped back, frowning at him. “There _have_ been a lot of accidents,” she admitted. “Kind of makes you think…”

“Right. Accidents,” Blaine said, turning back to the mirror. He froze, when he noticed a piece of paper.

“You don’t think it’s… sabotage?” Rachel asked.

Well, at least he hadn’t been the only one to think of it. But instead of answering the question, he grabbed the paper, his hands barely shaking as he unfolded it. As expected, there was writing in it, the crude block letters of someone disguising their handwriting. His heart fell, as he read the words.

_Your voice transforms the notes you sing.  
Elevates profane lyrics into art.  
No soul in any ballad but the one you create.  
Don’t give up now.   
It only lives through you._

Blaine closed his eyes. As lovely as the words sounded, he still wanted to throw it away and run.

Rachel stepped closer behind him, peering at the note.

“Well, look at that,” she said, her voice jarringly cheerful. “You already have a fan.”

Blaine stared at her, as if she had gotten insane. Did she not understand what this meant? But then he realized, how could she? He tried to think back to the first notes he’d gotten, how they’d actually made him happy, been a bright spot against the grueling rehearsals and constant criticism. Of course, they had changed.

“This one’s _nice_ ,” he said.

“Nice? It’s lovely,” Rachel protested. Her smile got just a bit wistful. “I remember when Jesse wrote me notes like that. He had them delivered to my dressing room with flowers.”

“They’re not all like this,” Blaine said. “Honestly? Some of them are…” He shuddered.

Rachel frowned. “What?”

Blaine hesitated, but then he sighed. He had decided not to tell people about this. After all, if even his husband didn’t take him seriously, who else would care? But that had been short-sighted. He should have considered confiding in Rachel.

“At first, they were all like this,” he said. “Sweet, encouraging… kind of made my day. But then… things started happening. Like parts of my costume getting missing, or damaged. Those chocolates with almonds in them. Parts of the scenery falling down. And the notes. There are still some like this, but in between… there were others. Creepy ones. Kind of… abusive, even. Blaming me for everything, telling me I’m a disgrace, that I can barely hold a tune, that my dancing is awful, that I’m going to be the ruin of this show, and basically, everyone would be better off if I just… disappeared.”

Rachel’s eyes widened, and inadvertently, she had taken his hand. “I had no idea… why didn’t you say anything?”

Blaine shrugged. “Kurt says it’s nothing. That the notes don’t mean anything, that all those other things are just accidents, that I’m making things up in my head… That maybe I’m trying to self-sabotage because I’m scared, I won’t be good enough. And you _know_ how important this show is for us.” He sighed. “I get that, Rachel. But… I don’t know how long I can take this.”

Rachel shook her head. “Blaine… this isn’t nothing. I mean… all those accidents have been concerning enough, but those notes… I think you have a stalker or something. That’s… that’s _dangerous_.”

Blaine gulped. He had thought all this for a while, but for some reason, it felt worse when someone else confirmed his own feeling. More real. “You think so?”

Rachel nodded. “Jesse and I have been talking about it, actually. We’re worried about you. Maybe we should take a break until this is figured out.”

“No!” Blaine shook his head.

“But Blaine… this isn’t trivial. Maybe we should talk to the police…”

“And have an investigation started?” Blaine asked. “They’ll put the show on hold. We’re behind schedule already. Rachel… we _need_ this. If this isn’t a success, we’re basically ruined. I can’t risk that.”

“But you can risk your life?” Rachel asked. She frowned at him in clear disapproval.

Blaine shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t know. But we can’t risk the show. Please…”

She still wasn’t convinced. Of course, she wasn’t. With a sigh, she went to hug him again. “I’m just worried about you.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“We’ll have to figure this out. We _will_ figure this out,” Rachel promised.

Blaine closed his eyes, hugging her back, and for just a moment, he allowed himself to believe her.

* * *

  
When he finally arrived home, he found Kurt already there, sitting at the desk and looking through papers. Away from the theater and the fear of the moment, it was painfully obvious how exhausted he was, the lines etched deeply into his pale face. He looked up as Blaine entered. There was no anger. Apparently, he too had time to calm down.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft and tentative.

“Hey,” Blaine said, walking closer. “Look… I’m sorry for storming out like that.”

“No, I understand,” Kurt said, “that was pretty scary, I get that you were upset.”

Blaine nodded. He stopped, feeling a bit awkward, standing in front of the desk. “I talked to Rachel a bit. It really calmed me down.”

“That’s good,” Kurt said, just a hint of sharpness in his voice, as it occurred so often when he mentioned Rachel.

“So…” Blaine frowned, grasping for anything to start an actual conversation. A part of him wanted to point out how Rachel didn’t think the stalker idea was ridiculous, but he didn’t want to start another fight. “What did the bank say?”

Kurt sighed, shaking his head. “We’re not getting another loan,” he said. “We’ll have to figure out something else. Maybe we can convince Jesse to put in a bit more… you could talk to Rachel about it?”

Again, a bit of an edge, although Kurt was so clearly trying to suppress it. Blaine nodded and smiled, putting away how terse he felt. It was usually him that had to talk to their friends, asking for money. He honestly hated it, but what else were they supposed to do?

“If there aren’t any more delays, we can still have everything ready for opening night,” Kurt said, “and then everything will be fine, I promise.”

Blaine nodded, although he couldn’t quite believe it.

“It will be,” Kurt insisted. “The show is great, I know it is. And the way you’re bringing it to life… the critics will love it, they will love _you_. This is it, Blaine. This is what’s going to end our streak of bad luck. You and me, together. We’ll turn it all around. It’s what Dad would have wanted us to do.”

Blaine averted his gaze. He had heard it all before, but sometimes it was hard to believe. And even when he could believe it, it was just so much pressure. Their last chance, and all depended on him. What if he wasn’t good enough?

He could feel Kurt watching him, and finally, his husband stood up, walked over to him and took his hands. “It will be okay,” he said, “I believe in you. More than anything. I wouldn’t put everything on this one card if I wasn’t completely convinced that you can do this. We just have to work together, and give everything, and we’re going to be _fine_.”

Blaine looked up, finding Kurt looking at him completely earnest, loving, trusting. There were a million things he could say now, about his doubts, hesitation, fear – not only of failure, but for his own safety. But how could he even start to bring up any of this, when Kurt was looking at him like this? When Kurt put all his trust and faith, his whole _future_ into Blaine’s hands? How could he ever disappoint him?

“Okay,” he said, nodding.

Kurt’s blinding smile was almost worth it.


	2. What New Surprises Lie In Store

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go with a quick update. The first two chaptere were pretty close together, since mostly, I didn't want to waste too much time before Sebastian actually deigns to show up.  
> Which he does now.  
> But since I'm taking a few days off, chances are the next chapter will take a bit longer.  
> Thanks to everyone who's read so far, and especially the readers who commented, always makes me very happy.
> 
> Short warning, the chapter mentions the death of a canon character, though it's really just a mention.   
> In my defense, I did say the last years were not kind.

* * *

There hadn’t been any more incidents in the next week, which was a slight relief even if it didn’t mean that the rehearsals had eased up. When he wasn’t training with a vocal coach, Blaine was sitting over the script, trying to keep up with the ever-occurring minute changes to the lyrics and one or two major plot points. He didn’t dare to point out that if Kurt was so convinced of the script, why did he insist on changing it so often? Instead, he threw himself into the rehearsals, trying to be the best version of himself and fulfilling his husband’s hopes.

If only there wasn’t the damn choreography.

More than once, he’d considered calling up Brittany, begging her to come back and rewrite some of the more complicated routines. But Kurt had been completely in love with what she’d designed, and she wasn’t even available at the moment. Not to mention that Santana had made it very clear that this choreography was the last help they could expect from them, and they better make good use of it.

He wasn’t the only person who noticed his problems with the dance moves. Chandler of course, wouldn’t shut up about it, but since he was obviously biased, Blaine refused to take any criticism from him to heart. However, Kurt, Jesse, and even some fellow cast members had remarked on this aspect often enough for him to know how bad it was. So, when Jesse asked him to the dance studio for a practice focused on choreography, he wasn’t surprised.

The room was empty when Blaine arrived, so he figured he could use the time to warm up a bit. Once that was done, he took out his phone. He had recorded the instrumentals and backups for all his numbers, to help him practice. He let the music of his first number play, the one that had been interrupted by the damn sandbag, the one with the turn he never got right. As the music started, Blaine took a deep breath, and fell in step. With nobody around, maybe he could make it?

He went through the choreography, just the movements, no vocals for now, and honestly, it was fine. But then, the turn came, and…

He was faster than before, for the price of another sharp sting of pain shooting into his left leg. Even so, he was too slow, and the pain distracted him enough to mess up even the next few steps before he got back into the beat.

In frustration, Blaine stopped the music, He leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. So maybe he needed to warm up more, certainly then it would be fine?

“Well, I think I see the problem.”

Blaine’s heart seemed to stop for a beat before going into overdrive. His head shot up, looking around until his eyes fell onto a lone figure leaning against the door to the studio. He hadn’t even noticed someone walking in, too focused on the choreography. Only after he had noticed the other man, Blaine realized he knew that voice.

“Sebastian?” he asked. It didn’t make sense. What was he even doing here?

But it was him, no doubt once he was moving – the way he was sauntering over was pure Sebastian Smythe, as was the way his eyes roamed over Blaine’s body, taking in everything, no doubt noticing every change. Sebastian too, wasn’t quite the same – a bit more muscle, his face a bit leaner, a few creases. His hair was a bit longer, and there was a hint of scruff on his face. But more impressive than all of that was the way Sebastian looked at him, with those piercing green eyes, one look of which made Blaine feel completely transparent. Or, again, like a blushing schoolboy.

“The legendary Blaine Anderson,” Sebastian said, smirking at him. “And here I thought you couldn’t get any hotter.”

Blaine laughed, although mostly out of shock. “What… what are you doing here?”

“Enjoying the view,” Sebastian said, winking.

“You… wow. Have you changed at all?” Blaine asked.

“Hm… jury’s still out,” Sebastian said with a shrug. “Seriously, though, I’m actually here as a professional.”

Blaine raised his eyebrows. “Professional what?” he asked. “Professional flirt?”

Sebastian laughed. It sounded carefree, in a way that Blaine couldn’t help but envy. “I was hired to help with the choreography. Something about the original choreographer being on her honeymoon?”

“Second honeymoon,” Blaine said. “Brittany and Santana are taking over Europe.”

“Good thing I got out of Paris in time,” Sebastian said, shuddering. “Anyway, St. James said his lead actor is struggling with choreography, so he hired me to help out a bit. That was your first number you’ve been rehearsing, right?”

Blaine nodded. “I’m just struggling with this one turn. I never get it on time.”

Sebastian nodded. “I saw that. Let’s try again, alright? Just this part, not the whole song. Let’s see if we can get it right if we take only this one bit.”

Blaine nodded, putting on the music again a few seconds before the turn. He concentrated, letting it play until the right point before starting to move. And then, the turn, and…

Too late. Again.

Wordlessly, he took his phone, and let the music play from the same point again. He would get this done, eventually, if it was the last thing he did. He ignored Sebastian’s gaze on him, as he went through it again.

Too slow.

Again.

He had to get it right this time. With every fiber of his being focusing on this one point, he stepped, back, and turned, and-

The first thing he realized, he actually did it right. On the beat, he turned.

He had done it!

The next thing he noticed was searing pain. His leg wobbled, and he felt himself gasp for breath. He stumbled, trying to get back into the rest of the choreography, and-

Hands grabbed onto his arms.

“Stop!” Sebastian said, his voice so commanding and firm that Blaine found himself complying without even realizing it.

“Sit,” Sebastian said, leading him to a bench.

The pain subsided already, as Blaine leaned his head back against the wall.

“Sorry,” he said.

Sebastian just rolled his eyes at the remark. “So that’s clearly not going to work,” he said.

“It is,” Blaine said. “I can do it, I just… I need to train. I’ll get it right eventually, I promise.”

“Right,” Sebastian said, clearly not buying it. “What’s wrong with your leg?”

Blaine froze. “What?”

“Well, something’s up with it. That’s why you don’t manage the turn on the beat.”

Blaine looked down. “It’s nothing,” he said, looking up, silently pleading.

Something in his face seemed to give Sebastian pause. Eventually, he sighed. “Sure, whatever. We can pretend your leg is fine. It doesn’t change the fact that this turn is clearly not working.”

“If I try harder…”

“I just saw what happens when you try harder,” Sebastian said. “What’s the point of getting this one step right if it messes up the rest of the routine?”

“What else are you suggesting?” Blaine asked.

Sebastian shrugged. “If you can’t do the routine, it has to be changed. Let’s try it in a different way. How about you turn on two beats instead of one?”

Blaine frowned. “You think it would look good?”

“We’ll know once we try,” Sebastian said.

There wasn’t much he could say to that. So he stood up and got back to the floor. He expected Sebastian to play the music again, but instead he just tapped the rhythm with his foot. Blaine took a breath, and then started moving. Two beats for the turn made it so much easier than before, and for the third step he was right back in the routine.

“Not bad,” Sebastian said. “Again.”

After the third dry run, Sebastian put the music back on. Even with the instrumental, it worked out so much better than usual. They did that two more times, before Sebastian made him go through it with vocals, and after that worked, the whole song.

It felt like the first time in ages that Blaine had even made it to the last notes of the song. He breathed deeply, before looking back at Sebastian, awaiting judgment.

Sebastian was looking at him, a broad grin on his face. “Nice work, killer!”

Blaine felt himself blush but he smiled nonetheless. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s a lot easier this way.”

Sebastian shrugged. “It’s barely a change.”

“Still, though,” Blaine said. “I mean… it’s easier, yes, but… isn’t it more elegant on one beat?”

To his relief, Sebastian didn’t seem upset at the criticism. “Obviously. Or well, it would be, if you could actually do it. But you can’t, so it isn’t. Trust me, a two beat sharp turn is a lot better than you fumbling through a one-beat turn in like one and a half beats.”

Blaine deflated. “I guess we have to work around me just not being good enough,” he said. It didn’t even sound bitter, only tired.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Look, you have to work with what you’ve got. Besides, do you really think a few steps in choreography make or break the whole show? Like anybody will even notice it.”

Blaine sighed, sitting back down on the bench. “It has to be perfect,” he said. “And Brittany wrote this brilliant choreography. It really _is_ perfect. I’m just not good enough to pull it off.”

Sebastian walked over and sat down beside him. He offered him a bottle of water, and Blaine accepted it gratefully.

“So, she wrote the choreography and took off?” Sebastian asked. “Look, Brittany is certainly talented. But what’s the point of the perfect choreography if your cast isn’t able to actually perform it? Trust me, it’s better this way.”

“I guess,” Blaine said. “I just… I can’t mess this up.”

Sebastian frowned. “It’s a show, Blaine. Not a matter of life and death.”

Blaine chuckled. “It might as well be,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Sebastian asked.

Blaine was about to start explaining just what the show meant, but he was interrupted by the door opening.

“Well, how are things coming along?”

It was Jesse, waltzing in as if he owned the place. He frowned slightly once he took in how they were sitting down, instead of practicing.

“We’re making progress,” Sebastian said. “Although we might have to change a few bits in the choreography.”

Jesse stared at him in disbelief. “Oh my god… Are you serious?”

Sebastian looked at him skeptically. “ _Yes_.”

“Bless your heart,” Jesse said, laughing. “This is the first sensible thing about that damn choreography I’ve heard since the start of this nightmare. Change whatever you want, just make sure it looks decent in the end.”

“See?” Sebastian asked, shooting Blaine a look. “ _He’s_ reasonable.”

Blaine bit down his reply that Kurt might see it differently. If he was honest, he’d prefer it this way, too. It was just so tiring to keep failing, again and again.

Jesse was still looking at Sebastian as if he couldn’t quite believe him. “Look at that… you’re going to actually fix the show, aren’t you?”

Sebastian snorted. “Miracles are _not_ part of my contract.”

“Still, though. I’m starting to think hiring you was the best move in this whole production,” Jesse said.

Blaine frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jesse shrugged. “Well, you two aren’t the only ones who sank a lot of money into this. Sure, we’re not _quite_ as desperate as your husband, but if this show bombs, we’ll also take quite the financial hit. Then again, if this is a success… would be nice to send the twins to college one day. But with all these accidents, and what Rachel told me the other day… Look, I know you’re under tons of pressure here. I get it. The problem is that you can’t take a break now. So I figured… let’s get a little extra security here. And I have to say, the first impression is looking pretty good.”

“So is Sebastian going to check the whole choreography?” Blaine asked.

“Nope, just yours,” Jesse said. “He’s here solely to get you ready for opening night. Now, Rachel told me there’s some sort of history between you. I do hope that won’t be a problem?”

Blaine gulped, as he thought over this question. Would it be a problem? He couldn’t even begin to think how the conversation between Jesse and Kurt had gone, concerning this hiring. Honestly, it was a miracle that he hadn’t heard about it yet.

“Look, I know things haven’t always been… smooth between us,” Sebastian said, looking at him with what looked like sincerity. “But high school was a long time ago. I’m not here to cause you trouble, either with the show or with your marriage. I know I was an asshole back then. But I do care, Blaine. And right now, I’m only here to help you. You can trust me.”

Blaine looked down. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sebastian. Sure, back in high school, the warbler had screwed him over. But they’d been competition back then, and he knew that Sebastian had had a lot of pent up anger back then, possibly some jealousy as well. He’d been immature, but Blaine hadn’t exactly been the poster boy for maturity himself – otherwise he might have actually reached out instead of giving up one of the closest friendships he’d ever had. There had been so many late night phone calls, so many things he’d told Sebastian that he wouldn’t have told anyone at McKinley, before it had all exploded over the Michael debacle. He hadn’t been worried about Sebastian trying to mess up his relationship either. He’d known that no matter how much Sebastian flirted, nothing would happen – because he’d trusted himself.

Basically, there was a reason he had never reached out to Sebastian when he and Kurt had been in a rough spot.

But Sebastian was looking at him, expecting an answer. Jesse, too, was watching him carefully.

This was a chance. He’d just have to worry about himself. Surely, he had more restraint than that.

So, he nodded. “I think I can do that,” he said.

“Perfect!” Jesse said. “Now, you’ve got anything to show me yet?”

Sebastian grinned. “From the top?”

* * *

The next few days were so busy that Blaine barely had time to think, much less talk to Kurt about the circumstances that had led to them hiring Sebastian of all people. But as exhausted as he was, the progresses he made felt amazing. He only now started to realize he had had resigned himself to the fact that he was doomed to fail at the choreography. With Sebastian’s new approach, he suddenly felt like he could actually accomplish something. Some parts that were too difficult were changed; for other parts, Sebastian drilled him until he managed to pull them off. And somehow, trying something again and again and finally succeeding felt so much sweeter when it was rewarded with an open grin, the wink of those sparkling green eyes, and even something as simple as “Good work!” at the end of the session. In short, it was a high he hadn’t felt in a long time. When he fell into bed at night, he fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted but proud of the process he was making.

It would be great, if only it weren’t for the notes.

It was almost a week since he’d started training with Sebastian. He’d been in the dressing room for just a moment, getting into his costume for a rehearsal. He was just about to leave when he noticed the paper that had apparently been shoved under the door.

With hesitation, he picked it up. Another note, wonderful. He wasn’t sure what to expect from it. Even the positive notes had started to creep him out.

_If the show stands or falls with you, it’s already dropping off a cliff.  
Do you even know what emotion is?  
If you had any decency, you would have stepped back a long time ago.   
A miracle if we can make it despite you._

His stomach turned as he read the words again and again. He’d managed to ignore the accidents and notes and everything during the last few days, but this brought them right back to the forefront of his mind. His hands were shaking to the point he could barely hold onto the note. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d want to. Instead, he let go, watching it sail to the ground.

There was a rapid knocking on the door, making him flinch.

“We’re up in five!” It was one of the other actresses, Jolene.

“Coming!” he called out. He closed his eyes, tried to calm down his breathing, before he put on a show face and stepped outside, following her to the stage.

It was the first time they were rehearsing the final number with the changes Sebastian had made to his choreography, and for the first time in costume. Blaine tried to remember his steps, not sure if he wouldn’t mess things up between the two versions, but more concerned with putting the note out of his mind. He stepped to the stage, and noticed Jesse and Chandler sitting in the first row, apparently involved in some sort of discussion. For a moment he wondered why Kurt wasn’t here, before he remembered – some appointment with some other bank. Of course.

As he got into position, Blaine looked over the audience, noticing Sebastian sitting in the fourth row. His presence came as a relief. At least this way it wouldn’t be Blaine’s responsibility to justify the changes in choreography.

Whatever Chandler was telling him, Jesse seemed utterly unimpressed. He rolled his eyes, turning to the stage.

“Oh, Blaine, you’ve decided to join us,” he said, although his voice was more of a light teasing. “Is everyone ready then?”

“It’s about time,” Chandler said, glaring at him.

“From the top then,” Jesse said.

It started out fine, Sebastian’s training definitely had taken off the former roughness as he went through the choreography, and Blaine could have sung the number in his sleep with no trouble. But once he neared the second stance, it was time for a slightly major change. As he stepped forward, instead of turning right to stand far from the chorus – the plan to stand out for a little dance solo – he turned left, staying in front of the chorus.

He noticed the confusion among the groups. Apparently, they hadn’t been informed about the change in choreography. Still, though, professional as they were, they stuck to their dance moves. He was grateful for that. Explanations could wait, for now he had to focus, if he-

A crash thundered over the stage.

Blaine stumbled, looking around, even as someone screamed. Part of the scaffolding he was supposed to climb at the end of the number was lying on the stage. It looked like nobody was hurt, but that wasn’t much consolation for Blaine. Not when he realized that this was exactly where he would have stood right now, if it hadn’t been for Sebastian’s change in choreography.

“What the hell?!”

Jesse climbed up the stairs, staring at the scaffolding. He then turned to Blaine, a look of concern in his face. “You okay?”

Blaine nodded, although right now he couldn’t even really tell.

“What are you even playing?” Chandler asked. “You messed up the choreography.”

“It was changed,” Blaine protested.

“Bloody good thing it was!” Jesse yelled. “Do you _want_ our lead to be crushed?”

Good question, but considering it was Chandler, the answer probably was yes.

“Make yourself useful and get the construction crew here,” Jesse said. “And tell them to secure the whole stage. We need these accidents to stop. It’s a miracle nobody got hurt so far. Everyone on stage, take a break. We’ll meet back here in an hour to finish. We can’t waste much more rehearsal time.”

Blaine closed his eyes, trying to breath. Chatter had started and he could feel the eyes of a lot of the cast on him. He wondered if he looked particularly deranged, or if maybe they expected him to throw another fit. Just how did he come off here anyway? The writer/producer’s husband, who acted like a prima donna and threw tantrums…

“Come on.” Sebastian’s voice was closer than expected. At some point he’d stepped up beside him, and was now putting a hand to Blaine’s shoulder, leading him off the stage. Relieved, Blaine let himself sag against him. He tried to ignore everyone around them, as Sebastian walked him to his dressing room.

When they arrived, he sat down in front of the mirror, allowing himself to breathe. He could feel Sebastian watching him, but he was too tired to try and figure out what he was thinking.

“Are you okay?” Sebastian asked.

“Thanks to you,” Blaine said, trying to smile. “I mean… if you hadn’t changed the choreography…” He gulped and found himself blinking against tears. Too close to home, especially with the whole note business earlier. “You must think I’m overreacting.”

“I really don’t,” Sebastian said.

Surprised, Blaine looked up.

Sebastian was facing him, unusually serious. There was a crease on his forehead as he watched Blaine. Eventually, he nodded. “Tell me,” he said. “Tell me everything.”

So, he did. He talked about the notes, how at first they’d been charming, flattering, the bright spots in this whole production. How the tone had changed, with only same retaining the praise while others sounded threatening, abusive, just awful. He told Sebastian about the torn costumes, about the gift of chocolates he was allergic to, about the not-so-fake knife, and about all the parts of the scenery that had fallen down, up to the sandbag and the scaffolding now.

All through this, Sebastian was listening without interrupting him, just watching him as he put it all on the table.

“So… I know I haven’t actually been hurt. But this… it’s deliberate. It honestly feels like there’s someone trying to get me, and I don’t know what to do. I was lucky so far, but how easily could something have gone wrong? There have been so many close calls. What if I’m not as lucky next time?”

“That’s quite a lot,” Sebastian said eventually. “Have you even considered going to the police?”

Blaine shook his head. “I can’t risk them slowing down the production,” he said. “Besides, Kurt thinks I’m overreacting. That the notes are just an overeager fan and that all those other things really were just accidents.”

A flash of anger appeared on Sebastian’s face. “Is that a joke?” he asked. “This isn’t something you’re making up in your head. You clearly have a stalker, and not exactly a harmless one from the sound of it. Screw the production, this shit is _dangerous_.”

Blaine blinked, looking at him in surprise. After the way Rachel reacted, it wasn’t completely shocking that someone else took this as seriously as he did. Still, he was surprised at the vehemence Sebastian spoke with.

“Look, Blaine, let me be completely clear,” Sebastian continued, his eyes fixated on him, making him hesitant to even blink. “Let’s just say this isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with a stalker. You must take this seriously. The notes are concerning enough, if they’re really as bad as you say. That alone would make you think that whoever it is, he’s not going to leave it at some creative writing exercises. Add that there actually have been incidents – _attacks_ , more accurately – and it sounds like you’re in danger.”

Blaine felt a chill run over his spine, as Sebastian’s words sank in. Rachel’s sympathy had been encouraging, telling him that he wasn’t crazy for being worried. But to have his fears confirmed as well, to have someone else seeing this situation as actually dangerous… well, it scared him almost as much as the crashing scaffolding had.

“What should I do then?” he asked.

Sebastian sighed, shaking his head. “Honestly, you _should_ call the police, but your _husband_ seems to be completely opposed to that idea. Maybe he thinks of a dead lead s free publicist or something.”

Blaine’s jaw dropped, and he stared at him.

At least, Sebastian seemed to notice his reaction. “Sorry, not appropriate,” he said, as if that changed anything about what he’d said. “Still, though. You’d be so much safer if you’d just bring in the police and let them handle this.”

“But the show-“

“The show must go on?” Sebastian asked, looking at him like he was insane. “That’s your answer?”

Blaine looked down. “It’s not that,” he said eventually. He hated talking about this, but Sebastian deserved the truth. “We really need this show to be a success. See, we didn’t exactly have a lot of luck during the last few years. About ten years ago, Rachel and I were in a really bad accident. I was mostly fine, but Rachel…” He stopped, shuddering. “Let’s say it took a long time to have her back on her feet. And you know hospitals. It’s just… a lot of money. We helped as much as we could.”

“Obviously,” Sebastian said. “But if that was ten years ago, shouldn’t you have recovered by now? Looks like St. James has…”

“Yeah, well, it didn’t stop there,” Blaine said. “Kurt had really bad luck with auditions, and while I got a few roles, there was no break out role among them. Enough to pay the rent, but not much more. We were getting by, before Kurt’s dad got sick. Cancer. By the time they found it, there were already several metastases. They tried everything, the best therapy available, but it was all for nothing. The bills were completely insane. They had to sell the shop, the house… all for the treatment. And then he died, so there were the funeral costs.” Blaine stopped, trying to push down the pain that still welled up when he thought too much about it.

“We just fell into a hole and we haven’t figured out how to climb out yet. Kurt is sure that this show will be a success, we could pay off some debts and maybe actually regain a modicum of security. We need this. Otherwise… well, we’ll be ruined. This is basically our Hail Mary Pass. Either we solve our financial problems, or we’re done. And I don’t even want to think about what we’d do then.”

“What about you family?” Sebastian asked, frowning.

“Carol is back to working as a nurse. She has enough to live comfortably, but she can’t possibly spend money on us. We’d never accept it anyway. And my parents…” he sighed. “We had a falling out. Several, actually. My Dad and Kurt, especially. There just very different people. They don’t get along at all. It’s too complicated to get into right now, but to boil it down, my parents are not ready to support any more flights of fancy, and would prefer us to get a _real job_.” He mimicked air-quotes around the last two words, as if it was an absurd demand. Although lately, when he thought about it, it made way too much sense.

“And wouldn’t that be the end of the world,” Sebastian said, shaking his head. “What a mess…”

“What can I do?” Blaine asked with a shrug. He wondered if Sebastian noticed the honest question in there.

Sebastian sighed. “Just… be careful. Please.”

“I’m trying,” Blaine said. It felt like it was all he was doing anyway.

Sebastian still looked unconvinced. Somehow, Blaine felt grateful for that.

“You can keep an eye out for me,” he said. He wanted it to sound playful, but it didn’t come out quite right, more like an actual question than a joke.

Still, after a moment, Sebastian cracked a smile. “That’s what I’m here for,” he said.

That, too, sounded too genuine.

To be honest, Blaine was very much okay with that.


	3. All I Want Is Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so very sorry for how late this chapter is. I actually thought this story would come out pretty fast.  
> But well, this clearly isn't the year for plans to work out, is it? 
> 
> So, this is a strange situation for all of us, stressful for everyone in a different way. Please, everyone, stay safe and protect those around you, and do whatever you need to do to go through this with your sanity intact.

* * *

Despite the scaffolding incident, the rest of the rehearsal had gone surprisingly well. In the evening, Blaine was exhausted, and a bit proud. It was still overshadowed by the worry working its way through his stomach. He was surprised he hadn’t been more distracted. He was honestly glad to finally get home.

When Blaine walked in, he found Kurt sitting at his desk. He kind of expected his husband to look up, possibly ask how the rehearsal had gone. Maybe he’d even heard about the latest incident. It would make sense for Jesse to call him about it all. Instead, Kurt stayed right where he was, glaring at his computer as if it had personally offended him.

“Hey,” Blaine said softly.

There was no response.

Confused, Blaine came closer. He took a look at the screen – emails, something about advertising the show, certainly nothing explaining this behavior.

“Um… there was another accident today,” he said. He hated to use the words accident, but he knew that calling it anything else would just start another argument that he didn’t have the energy for right now. “Part of the scaffolding fell down. It didn’t hit me, but… well, it would have been close, if-“

At this, Kurt finally turned around, glaring at him with a look so venomous, Blaine froze.

“Anything you want to tell me?” Kurt asked.

Blaine gulped, looking at him in confusion. “I… just _was_ ,” he said. Where was this even coming from? What the hell had he done wrong now?

Kurt’s eyes narrowed, as he stood up, glaring down at Blaine in a way that made him feel every single inch of height difference between them.

“Tell me the truth,” Kurt demanded, “have you been seeing Sebastian Smythe?”

Blaine frowned, inadvertently taking a step back. “What? No, of course not,” he said. When would he even have time to meet Sebastian outside the rehearsals? And clearly those couldn’t be a problem, after all that was exactly what Sebastian had been hired for.

“Don’t fucking _lie_ to me!” Kurt yelled. “Are you seriously trying to tell me you haven’t talked to Sebastian at any point lately?”

Blaine shook his head. “Of course, I _talked_ to him. How the hell would we rehearse without talking?” he asked.

Now, Kurt was looking at him in confusion. “What do you mean, rehearse? What would you rehearse with him? I though you’re focusing on my show! What else are you rehearsing for?”

“What are you talking about?” Blaine asked. “Sebastian’s been coaching me on the choreography. You know? The thing you _hired_ him for?”

“Hired him? Why on earth would I hire this snake?” Kurt asked.

Blaine frowned. “But… Jesse said…” None of this was making sense… Unless… “Did Jesse _talk_ to you about hiring Sebastian?”

Kurt stared at him. The venom before had faded, but he still looked like pissed off. “So you’re saying Jesse hired Sebastian Smythe of all people, to do what exactly?”

“He’s helping me with getting the choreography right,” Blaine said. He thought about mentioning the changes Sebastian developed, but he figured that wouldn’t go over too well with Kurt right now. Better have Jesse deal with that particular conversation. “And it’s effective, it’s gotten so much better. Everyone thinks so. Well, except for Chandler…”

Not that Chandler’s opinion even mattered to him. The guy was a joke, really. So what, if he and Kurt had spent like a week in high school texting each other? That wasn’t the reason Blaine couldn’t stand him. But his constant nitpicking was just too much. Too bad that he was one of the few people who’d actually put money into their show, so Blaine couldn’t quite insist for him to get lost…

“And are you sure Jesse hired him?” Kurt asked. “It would be just like Sebastian Smythe to just show up and fool you into dancing with him, not to mention stabbing you in the back once he got bored…”

“Jesse told me himself,” Blaine said. “How come you don’t know about this? _Rachel_ knows about it.”

Kurt’s eyes widened, and for a moment he looked almost shaken, before the anger took over again. “We’re clearing this up _right now_.”

Blaine frowned in confusion, watching as Kurt got his coat and put on boots, before turning back to him.

“Well? Come on, we’re going to talk to Jesse!”

“You really think this is necessary?” Blaine asked, even as he followed. “Seriously, why is this such a big deal? High school was so long ago. Besides, Sebastian has been completely professional. He hasn’t hit on me once.”

For some reason, Kurt looked even angrier. “Like you would notice him hitting on you without a freaking billboard to point it out. You called his texts _family friendly_!” 

“They were!” Blaine protested. It was true. Yes, right after meeting, Sebastian had hit on him shamelessly, but he had soon stopped open flirting in their texts. Instead, they had just… talked, about whatever had come into their minds, things they wouldn’t share with anyone, or considered other people probably wouldn’t be interested in. There had been innuendoes, yes, and Sebastian hadn’t failed to mention his rather adventurous party life. But after the few actual come-ons in the beginning, he had learned pretty quickly that those would only lead to Blaine ending their conversation. And apparently, Sebastian had valued their connection more than pointless flirting.

Of course, it was futile trying to convince Kurt of this. His husband was fuming all the way to Jesse and Rachel’s apartment. After ringing the bell, they could hear high voices screaming inside, interrupted by Jesse’s voice. Blaine noticed Kurt flinching beside him, the angry façade cracking for the first time this evening. Finally, the door opened.

Jesse was standing there, holding a tiny dark-haired girl with pigtails on his arm. She was giggling and currently busy pushing a plush shark against Jesse’s ear. There was a streak of blue paint on his other cheek, and his hair was a complete mess. From inside, there was another little voice giggling. A delicious smell was coming from the kitchen.

Jesse looked at them a bit confused. “Hey. What are you guys doing here?” he asked, stepping back to let them in.

The little girl shrieked in delight, holding out her arms to Blaine.

Without missing a beat, Jesse shoved her towards him, and Blaine had no option but grabbing her.

“Hey, Barbra, been a good girl?” he asked.

She hugged him wildly, and he could already feel something sticky clinging to his cheek. Right after, she started babbling about their adventures in daycare, as Jesse led them back inside, where Barbra’s twin brother Finn was playing with finger paint. Part of it even landed on the paper, although most of it decorated the blanket he was sitting on.

“Who is it?” Rachel asked, stepping out of the kitchen. “Oh, hey guys!” She beamed at them, then kneeled down to stroke her son’s thick curls. “I didn’t know you were coming over. Are you staying for dinner? Jesse made this amazing casserole, but it’s still in the oven.”

Blaine felt torn between the wish not to impose too much on them, and the growling of his stomach, especially at the amazing smell. He kind of loved visiting Jesse and Rachel’s place. It looked like a complete mess, of course, the twins’ toys lying around, paint on unexpected surfaces, and always noisy. Still, it felt like an actual lived in home. With the frequent rehearsals lately, he’d barely gotten to spend any time with the kids, even though he and Kurt were the twins’ godfathers. But just being here, surrounded by the essence of family, Blaine always felt happier. Unfortunately, he knew things were different for Kurt.

Blaine barely dared to look up to his husband. When he did, he noticed that the anger seemed to have cooled down. Instead, there was a barely hidden sadness, a pain that cut Blaine right through the bone. He understood, of course. At first it had been tough to look at the little ones and not think about what could have been, that child that should have been theirs ten years ago, poor little thing that never had a chance…

“We’re actually here to talk about the show,” Kurt said, tearing his eyes from the little boy sitting on the floor. When he looked back up to Jesse, shadows of the former anger had returned. “Did you _seriously_ hire Sebastian Smythe?”

Jesse looked at him in confusion. “What? Yeah, he’s coaching Blaine on choreography. He’s doing pretty good work. Blaine’s really making progress with him.”

“Sebastian Smythe? Of all people you could have found, you hire _him_?!”

“Kurt, please…” Rachel stepped closer, putting a hand onto his arm. “I know you never got along with him, but this is for the good of the show. Do you remember how much better the Warblers got at choreography once he took over? Besides, he took classes in Paris, he’s really good at it.”

“You knew about this?” Kurt asked. He sounded betrayed, which Blaine honestly thought a bit much. After every sacrifice Kurt had demanded of him for the sake of the show…

“Leave Rachel out of this,” Jesse said, “this was my decision. I just checked in with her to get some details about the history between Blaine and the guy – would be kind of awkward to hire someone he wasn’t comfortable with.”

“Not comfortable…? He almost took out Blaine’s eye!” Kurt shouted.

“Strangely, I don’t hear him complaining,” Jesse said. “Actually, I don’t hear anything from him. What’s up with that, Anderson? Any input from you?”

Now everyone was looking at him, even the twins.

Blaine sighed. “Honestly? I have no problem working with Sebastian. He’s being completely professional, and he’s helping me a lot. You shouldn’t still be holding a grudge against him after more than ten years. He isn’t interested, and anyway, that shouldn’t matter in the first place. You should trust me.”

Now that look of betrayal was directed at him, and Blaine honestly didn’t even get why. It wasn’t like he hadn’t told Kurt any of that before he’d insisted that they disturbed Jesse and Rachel, or that he was wrong about any of it.

“Look, Kurt, there’s a very obvious point to this,” Jesse said. “We’re behind schedule, and Blaine’s struggle with the choreography is a huge part of it, apart from all the crazy things happening around the theater. We have to figure out at least some of this. And since you’re absolutely refusing to bring in the police, at least let me do my job by getting Blaine up to speed.”

“But Sebastian-“

“…is obviously up for the job, and cares enough to do it for a wage that most choreographers wouldn’t even show up for,” Jesse interrupted. “Maybe he’s trying to redeem himself, what do I know? But this is not up for negotiation. You’re not the only one who put money into this show. Now, this discussion is over. Are you staying for dinner or not?”

Kurt stared at him, and Blaine was surprised to find him speechless. Eventually, though, Kurt nodded.

Blaine tried to ignore all the tension between them. For just a moment, he allowed himself to buy into the illusion. Just friends… no, family, sitting down for dinner. He could almost believe it, with all of them sitting together, Barbra excitingly telling the adventures of daycare, while little Finn watched and listened carefully, arranging his food into artful patterns, Jesse telling stories about his families of which Blaine never really was sure whether they were true or stolen from reality tv. It seemed normal, wholesome, and he realized how much he was yearning for it, this warmth, happiness. He caught a glance on Kurt’s face, saw the tension that still remained her, and the whole illusion toppled. He looked to the table, and there was something raw in his throat.

A small hand landed on his wrist, and Blaine turned to see little Finn watching him carefully, thoughtfully.

“Don’t be sad,” the little boy said.

Blaine tried to smile at him. Maybe he could get it back, this feeling. If he only smiled, and pretended, then maybe.

Maybe it would become real.

* * *

  
Step, step, another twist, snap your fingers, turn, faster-

Blaine flinched as another flash of pain shot through his leg. He tried to hide it behind a wide smile that would at least be appropriate for the character at this point, and though the next step was off, he got back into the rhythm right after. Even though every step made the pain blossom again, he was determined to get through the number.

“Will you stop?”

He finished the turn before looking up at Sebastian, who for some reason looked really irritated.

“Sorry, I know I messed up, but-“

Sebastian shook his head. “You need a break,” he said, gesturing towards the bench. “Sit down.”

On one hand, Blaine was relieved to get a bit of a break. On the other hand, it felt like failing. He sat down, stretching his left leg. Sebastian gave him a bottle of water that he accepted gratefully.

“I can keep going,” Blaine said.

Sebastian shook his head. “It’s fine. We’re taking a break,” he said.

“I know we have limited time,” Blaine said softly. “I don’t want to waste it.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, you’re doing fine. This is fine-tuning, no point in over-exerting yourself now.”

“I just need it to be-“

“Perfect,” Sebastian said, his voice dripping from sarcasm, and he rolled his eyes. “So you keep saying. And if you keep this up, you will perfectly faint in the middle of opening night.”

Blaine stopped, staring at him. “You think I’m overdoing it…”

“I think you’re obsessed,” Sebastian replied. “And I get it, your goal is to make this successful.”

“What’s your goal?” Blaine asked.

“Preferably getting you through this in one piece,” Sebastian said with a shrug. “And between that stalker, your husband, and yourself this is turning out to be a pretty challenging job.”

Blaine looked to his hands. It sounded glib, but it brought up something he had wondered about since their confrontation with Jesse. 

“Can I ask you something?” he said eventually. “Why did you take this job? Jesse mentioned they’re not really paying you much…”

Sebastian shrugged. “It’s not my day job,” he said. “Not like I’m a professional choreographer or dancer. It’s more of a hobby.”

“What is your day job anyway?” Blaine asked. He wasn’t sure just how Sebastian would be able to hold down a regular job at the moment, not with how much time he was spending at the theater.

“I’ve just recently relocated from Paris,” Sebastian said, clearly avoiding the question. “I’m still kind of finding my footing.”

“Did you go to college there?” Blaine asked.

“University,” Sebastian said. “The Sorbonne. I got a psychology degree.”

“Wait, are you a therapist? Huh… I honestly didn’t see that coming…”

Sebastian snorted. “Not a therapist,” he said. “I got a job doing… profiling, mostly. Analysis. I think we can all agree that I don’t exactly have the sufficient empathy to deal with patients.”

“I don’t know,” Blaine said. “I imagine if you ever learned to hold your tongue, you could actually do a lot of good.” It was the same thing with Santana, after all. They both had this talent for zeroing in on someone’s weak spot, to find vulnerabilities and strike where it hurt most. None of that was possible without an unusual gift of perception.

“Right,” Sebastian said, grinning. “But honestly, after talking to a therapist myself, it’s really not something I’m cut out for.”

Blaine frowned, surprised at the admission. He tried to remember if Sebastian had ever mentioned something about therapy back then, but didn’t come up with anything. Something in the last ten years, maybe?

Sebastian was looking at him in a weird, hesitating way that wasn’t quite him, as if he was wondering whether he should continue. He didn’t seem to come to a conclusion.

“Why did you leave Paris?” Blaine asked eventually, when the silence threatened to become awkward.

Sebastian’s eyes widened just a fraction, as if he hadn’t expected the question. He looked down. Maybe this was some sore spot. Blaine was just about to take back the question, offer him an out of the conversation. But then Sebastian started talking.

“So, my old job was in law enforcement. Profiling. And I had this supervisor, Renard. He was pretty amazing. Never met someone this competent. I met him at an internship, and… well, I guess I must have done something right to impress him. Basically demanded that I join his team after graduating…” He shrugged, as a self-deprecating grin appeared on his face. “Nobody ever accused me of not having enough of an ego. So obviously I got over-confident. And it started out great. I fit right into the team, did some… really good work. Started climbing the ranks. I was basically his right-hand man. They were going to give me my own unit. But then something happened. We were getting threats. And I was so sure on who was responsible and that they wouldn’t actually go through with them. Turns out I was wrong. And Renard…” Sebastian stopped, looking to the side. “He died. It wasn’t exactly my fault, but… well, if I’d been better, than maybe I could have prevented it.”

Blaine took his hand, and was almost surprised at the fierce grip Sebastian returned the gesture with. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

“They sent me to see a therapist afterwards,” Sebastian said, “and I’m not saying it didn’t help. But when I tried to get back to work, I just… froze up. I tried, but I just couldn’t go back. So, I talked to my Dad and my sister, and they encouraged me to come back to the US, and try to figure things out in time. Maybe figure out how to actually do something worthwhile again with what I learned.”

“Is that why you’re taking this stalker thing so seriously?” Blaine asked.

“Kind of,” Sebastian said. “Also, because it’s you. When Jesse approached me with the offer… well, it wasn’t much of a question. Besides, I do kind of owe you for all the shit I pulled in high school.”

“I mean, you did help with my proposal,” Blaine said.

Sebastian shuddered, grimacing. “Even more I have to make up for,” he said.

“Hey!” Blaine said, slapping Sebastian’s arm playfully. He was glad to see his friend grin back at him.

“Oh come on, even _you_ have to agree that was kind of a train wreck. Like, fine, he said yes, it all worked out. But from an adult perspective, can you really say it was a good idea?”

Blaine looked down. “It didn’t all work out,” he admitted. “We even broke up a bit down the road. We got back together, of course, but… well, let’s just say it wasn’t all sunshine and roses.”

Sebastian frowned, watching him carefully. “You mentioned. Your finances…”

Blaine hesitated. A part of him wanted to open up, to tell him everything. How for so long everything in his life had revolved around Kurt, trying to force happiness out of that connection. How painful it had been at time. How it was nothing compared to the last ten years. But he wasn’t quite sure if Sebastian really wanted to hear. Then again, his friend had opened up to him first. It would just be fair to answer in honesty.

“It’s not just that,” he said, eventually. “I mean… the first few years of our marriage, it was really good. We were… happy. Had some successes. We thought we had it all figured out. So we thought, we’ve been married almost five years, we’re stable. We should have a real family.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows went up. “Family? Like… children?”

Blaine nodded. “Rachel offered to be our surrogate,” he said. “You know, back then we thought it was a good idea. So we went ahead, even Jesse was okay with it. I mean, obviously not thrilled, but Rachel really wanted to do this for us, so he went with it. It was actually going really well. The pregnancy was without complications, we were all so thrilled. It would have been perfect…”

He stopped, surprised to find his eyes tearing up just a bit. It had been ten years. He should be over this by now.

“What happened?” Sebastian asked.

“I told you about Rachel’s accident, right?”

Sebastian frowned, then nodded.

As Blaine continued, he felt his voice breaking. Still, now that he started, it had to get out.

“So Rachel was _really_ pregnant. Eighth month, and she was getting really uncomfortable. I only wanted her to have something nice. There’s this spa that she was dying to get to, but it was a bit far to drive. Jesse was really busy at the time and couldn’t take her. Kurt said it was a bad idea, this late in her pregnancy, and suggested she waited. And I figured… what’s the harm? The chances of her going into labor wasn’t high, and she really just wanted some time off. So I took her. We rented a car, drove out to the spa. It seemed like a good idea. She was so happy. Really relaxed. So okay, we stayed there a bit longer than expected, and it was a bit late when we drove back. Shouldn’t have been a problem…”

“Then what…?”

“We were hit by a drunk driver,” Blaine said, looking down. “I was lucky, but Rachel… it was bad, Sebastian. She almost died. And the baby… well, she actually died. And Rachel, she was… devastated. I was so scared for her. For a while, she was basically catatonic. She kept blaming herself, that it never would have happened if she hadn’t wanted to have just a few hours for herself. She felt so guilty, and worthless, and… it broke my heart. Our daughter was dead, and Rachel was in this… pit of depression. We were really scared for a while, like she was going to hurt herself. Between Jesse and our friends and family, and us, we managed to collect enough money to not only pay the hospital bills but get her into therapy. It was intense. She was in a hospital for almost two months. But she made it. You don’t understand how strong she is. I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of anyone for anything.” He couldn’t help a small smile.

“She’s lucky to have you guys,” Sebastian said.

Blaine shook his head. “I think we’re lucky to have her. I’m so glad we still do. She’s come such a long way since then. But it was hard on everyone else. Jesse was scared dead. And Kurt… I don’t think he ever got completely over our daughter dying. I don’t want to imagine how he would have taken it to lose Rachel as well.”

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said. “That must have been a really tough time.”

Blaine nodded. “It was.”

“So… is that what happened to your leg?” Sebastian asked after another pause.

Blaine looked up in surprise. “What?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I’m not blind, you know? You sometimes get that look, when you put too much stress on it. Is that from the accident?”

With hesitation, Blaine nodded. Really though, what was the point of hiding it. “My leg got a bit screwed up. I had surgery back then. It wasn’t as bad… but I probably should have done physical therapy afterwards.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“We needed everything we had for Rachel,” Blaine said. “Compared to that, my leg wasn’t even that big a deal. It still isn’t a big deal, really. It just makes choreography a bit tough sometimes. In the big picture, it barely matters.”

“Still, though…” Sebastian looked at him skeptically.

“It barely holds me back,” Blaine said. “I don’t like bringing it up anyway. It just seems petty compared with the trauma Rachel went through. And I don’t think Kurt ever got over the fact that we won’t have a family…”

“I mean, you _could_ still have a family,” Sebastian said.

Blaine shook his head. “Not really. We… Well, Kurt brought it up once, a few years later, when Rachel was stable enough again. But after losing a child this late in the pregnancy, and under such traumatic circumstances… she just couldn’t do it anymore. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to go through with a pregnancy at all, much less give up the child afterwards. Hell, she got pregnant on accident later, and she completely freaked out. Now, she’s glad she went through with it, and her twins are… honestly, the most adorable thing ever. But back then, just the thought of pregnancy was enough to scare her to death. No way she would go through with a surrogacy ever again, and you really can’t blame her.”

“Kind of bad taste to ask her in the first place,” Sebastian said.

Blaine agreed, but held himself back from actually saying it. “Rachel was so sorry about it. But she was adamant. I don’t think Kurt ever really got over that.”

“Still, you could have gotten another surrogate. Another friend, or maybe a professional?” Sebastian said.

“I think Kurt asked Santana and Brittany at some point. At least Santana stopped talking to us for a few months,” Blaine said. “Honestly, it’s such a huge thing to ask for. I’m not blaming anyone for not agreeing to this. And a professional surrogate is way beyond what we can afford, even if we were stable enough to raise a child right now. Things are a lot different than they were ten years ago. That crash… it kind of changed everything. It’s the point everything went downhill from.”

He sighed, leaning back against the wall. “Sorry. Not exactly a happy story.”

Sebastian snorted. “Yeah, you really brought down the fun mood I created with my dead mentor story.”

Despite everything, Blaine couldn’t help chuckling. “You’re awful.”

“Like you aren’t,” Sebastian said, grinning at him.

Blaine found himself smiling and was surprised to feel warmth spreading through him. It was a lot like the fleeting warmth he’d convinced himself to feel at Rachel’s dinner table, except nobody was around to dispel it. He realized how close they were, Sebastian sitting beside him. He could count the freckles from where he was sitting.

Blaine averted his eyes, breaking the tension.

“I kind of missed you,” he admitted. It was true, even if he hadn’t actively thought of Sebastian in a long time. But this, talking to someone without worrying about wrong impressions, how every single word was taken, to just be open… that was something he really missed those last years.

Sebastian was still looking at him carefully, before returning his smile.

“Yeah. I missed you, too.” Then, he grinned, getting up. “Come on, that was enough of a break. Let’s get back to work.”


	4. And What A Masquerade

It was a pity that they couldn’t afford actual therapy at the moment. Even just talking about things with Sebastian seemed to lift Blaine’s spirits. Really, it was only now that he realized just how bad he’d been feeling for the last few years. Even in the middle of exhausting rehearsals and the ever-present fear of the whole stalker thing, Blaine was glad to have at least these few bright spots.

Unfortunately, Kurt didn’t seem to see things the same way. He had finally realized that no amount of protesting would make Jesse fire Sebastian. Even trying to get Rachel to weigh in hadn’t worked. She had completely refused to even listen, insisting that as long as Blaine was comfortable, the whole arrangement was a win.

If Blaine was honest, “comfortable” was an understatement. For the first time in weeks he felt like he was actually making tangible progress. And somehow, having Sebastian around made him feel… safer. Maybe it was just that he was now spending a lot of one-on-one time with someone who actually took his fears seriously and had an eye out for any danger.

Of course, there were more than a few moments when he actually felt a bit uncomfortable. The more their training picked up, the more intense it got. Blaine repeatedly found himself sweaty, gasping for breath, and more than once it actually was a bit distracting to then feel Sebastian’s hands on him, subtly correcting a stance, or showing him the flow of certain movements, lingering just long enough to wonder how deliberate it was. So far, Blaine thought he was doing a pretty good job at downplaying just how much it got to him.

He could tell from the amused smirk on Sebastian’s face that he wasn’t, not really.

Still, the progress was tangible. Rehearsals seemed to be progressing faster. When it was time to do a costume rehearsal for the final number, Blaine actually felt confident that it would work out. Almost all actors were on the stage, only a few of them sitting in the audience.

By now, the rest of the cast seemed to be fine with the fact that Blaine’s choreography had subtly changed. He wasn’t sure if people were resentful Sebastian made things easier for him, or if they were relieved that the changes meant less repeating. Either way, he felt some weird sort of confidence, all decked out in the golden sparkle of his last costume, ready to take on the final number. He focused completely on his steps, the song, the show, and of course, the choreography. For once, it was easy to blend out the audience – Kurt’s face a steel façade, Chandler’s eternal sour glare that looked like he was sucking on a lemon, Jesse mostly looking bored… and Sebastian, just the hint of a self-satisfied smirk in his face as he watched.

They all disappeared in his mind, even as he himself disappeared into the role. It was probably the best rehearsal they ever pulled off. For once, everything was on point, even the dancing. There were several changes to the final numbers, the impossible twists and turns that Brittany had written in replaced with something still elegant, challenging, but actually feasible. And as everyone joined in for the last lines, Blaine felt his heart swell like the music. Like this, he could actually believe in this show.

Once the last note had faded, Blaine finally allowed himself to look. His eyes fell to Sebastian beaming up at him, Jesse looking more relieved than anything else, and Chandler looking even more sour than before. Then, finally, he dared to look to Kurt.

For once, there was an actual reaction.

Kurt looked appalled.

Blaine found himself biting the inside of his cheek, the pride and happiness sucked out of him in an instant. Even as Jesse started talking, actually congratulating them on the number, and something about bringing this exact energy to the stage, all he could focus on was that expression on Kurt’s face, like something was bubbling up inside him, just waiting to boil over.

Eventually, it did.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you,” Chandler said, his voice like nails on chalkboard. “They’ve been _changing_ it!”

Jesse glared at them, clearly annoyed to be interrupted in his speech. A pity too, seeing how this one had actually sounded good for once. “I’m sorry, _what_ is your problem now?”

“The choreography!” Chandler hissed, always willing to take the words out of Kurt’s mouth before he could say them.

“That is _not_ what Brittany created,” Kurt said. “Whose idea was that?”

“Take a guess,” Sebastian said in a deliberate drawl. “Who do you think? And hey, at least this way it works.”

“Who the hell do you think you are to change my show?” Kurt asked, glaring at him as if he could set him on fire.

“So what? You’re changing stuff all the time,” Jesse said. “You put in lyric changes _yesterday_. Why is it such a problem to change the choreography? Just because _Brittany_ came up with it?”

“At least she knows what she’s doing. I wouldn’t trust that cretin with keeping a cactus alive!”

“Oh, get over yourself. Nobody cares about your stupid choreography,” Sebastian said, rolling his eyes so far up that it looked painful.

“You don’t get to just walk in here and ruin the whole show!” Kurt yelled at him. “Brittany wrote something amazing, and you’re ruining it!”

“If you want Brittany’s brilliant choreography then go get her to dance it herself,” Sebastian spat back. “At least with the changes I put in your lead is actually able to pull it off.”

Another wave of guilt hit Blaine. Nobody would fight over this if he was better. Beneath the guilt, there was just a spark of anger. Sebastian was right, a few different steps wouldn’t change anyone’s opinion of the show.

“It’s looking like absolute crap!” Kurt said.

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Chandler crowed.

“And it was just as dumb then,” Jesse replied. “Can we _please_ focus on the big picture here? We’re behind schedule, the stage is falling apart around us, and we need to save time wherever we can. If that means polishing a few flourishes off the choreography, then let’s be grateful we have such an easy solution!”

“Brittany’s choreography is better!” Kurt insisted.

Blaine wasn’t sure whether that stubbornness came from actually believing Brittany could do no wrong or from not wanting Sebastian to be right.

“Well, what’s the point of it if Blaine can’t dance it?” Great, now Jesse was raising his voice, too.

Blaine looked to his feet, hating how he’d been pushed in the spotlight like this again. The whole rest of the cast must be freaking tired of him.

“Not this again,” the female lead beside him muttered. “What’s his deal with the freaking choreography?”

Blaine looked up in surprise. Only now did he realize he’d been wrong. Nobody seemed upset with him, although they seemed kind of annoyed at the whole situation – more at Kurt than him.

“This show has to be perfect,” Kurt said. “And messing with the choreography messes with the show.”

Jesse threw up his hands. “Like I’m talking to a wall! Okay, fine. Everyone back to the starting positions, and Blaine, this time you’re doing the old choreography. As best as you can, and let’s be honest, it’s not getting better in time for opening night. Let’s see how you like that version.”

Blaine gulped, but obeyed. For a moment he was unsure whether he’d even still remember the old choreography, but the truth was that weeks of grueling practice had engrained the steps into his brain.

When everyone was at their starting position, the music played again, and he started to move. He followed the old steps, and once more tried to put in everything. He sang his heart out, he twisted, and turned, tried to follow the choreography. The longer the number went on, the harder it was. He wasn’t fast enough, the turns not sharp enough, and the focus on the steps took concentration he needed for the vocals. Every second made it more obvious. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t good enough, no matter how hard he tried. Why was he even doing this?

He didn’t have time to fall into a philosophical rabbit hole, damn it, he had to focus!

The next turn, sharp, on the heel of those damn tap dancing shoes, and then..

The crack was to low to hear it over the music, Blaine felt it more than actually hearing it, as the heel gave way, and his balance shifted. The energy from the turn propelled him forward, and time seemed to slow down, as the stage came closer. Then, it sped up.

He threw out his arm, catching himself as he fell to the floor. For a few seconds, people were dancing around him, until like a slow wave, they came to a halt. The music too, faded out, until everything around him just stopped, and he was left on the middle of the stage, breathing heavily.

Slowly, he turned to stare at his foot. The heel of his shoe had broken off and was lying a few feet from him. When he looked at his shoe, a part of it looked broken off. But about half of it looked more like a cut.

No. He had to be getting paranoid. Who’d think of sabotaging his damn shoes? Slowly, he turned his head to his other shoe. He put a hand to his heel and started to push. And yes, it started to give way.

Someone was sabotaging his damn shoes now.

A hand grabbed his shoulder. His heart seemed to stop again, as he looked up.

Sebastian was kneeling beside him, actual worry in his face. “Are you okay?”

Blaine took a deep breath and forced himself to think about it. He’d been shocked, and there was a bit of pain from hitting the floor, as well as the strain on his leg. But it was fine.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I’m okay.”

As Sebastian helped him up to his feet, even if his stance was a bit wobbly with a broken shoe. He looked down to the audience, where Kurt had stood up and was glaring at him.

“What was that?” he asked.

Blaine stared, surprised at how angry he sounded. Then he realized. Kurt hadn’t noticed whatever was going on with his shoes. All he saw was Blaine failing spectacularly at choreography steps he’d managed to pull off better in the past – it had to look like a conscious attempt to get out of doing to the more challenging choreography.

“The shoe’s broken,” Sebastian said, nodding towards the heel that had broken off.

“Is _anything_ working here?” Jesse asked. “Fuck, I _hate_ this show!”

“Nobody is forcing you to be here,” Kurt hissed.

“Oh please, you were _begging_ us to help you,” Jesse replied.

“And I’m regretting that choice more and more every day!” Kurt spat back. “We’re sticking to the old choreography, and that’s it!”

“You know what, Kurt? Go to hell,” Jesse said. “I’m just as far into this as you are. This is not just your show anymore. I’m part of this, a lot of people are part of this, and you can’t just single-handedly decide whatever you want. So guess what, we’re doing the thing that works. And if you want to throw a tantrum over this, then go and pay the damn thing your damn self! Anything else?!”

Kurt was glaring at him, and it looked like he was about to explode. Blaine found himself holding his breath, shrinking back even when the anger wasn’t directed at him. Sebastian’s grip on his arm tightened.

But the explosion didn’t come. Instead, Kurt turned around and walked out, sharp step, and head held high. Blaine couldn’t even breath until the doors slammed shut behind him.

Everyone seemed frozen around them. Jesse was the first one who moved.

“Alright. Well, we have to find new shoes for Blaine, and I imagine everyone can use a breather. One hour break, and afterwards we’ll go through the rest of the second act’s ensemble numbers.”

People around him were filing out, even as Sebastian pulled him to his feet. Blaine felt like he was on autopilot. What an absolute mess this day had become… On some level he was aware of the other actors and dancers looking at him, as he tried his best not to limp. Sebastian’s hand was on his back, just a hint of pressure, leading him through the audience, the hallways, back to his dressing room.

The door shut behind them, keeping the rest of the world outside. Blaine sat down in front of the mirror, sagging into the cushions of his chair. At moments like these, he wasn’t sure why he was even bothering with the show. Every time he thought things were turning around, something like this happened – another _accident_ , or another note, or his husband caring more about a goddamn show than about him.

When he looked up, he found Sebastian watching him carefully, as if he was trying to solve some sort of riddle. Blaine looked away, surprised at the intensity in his gaze.

“Can I see these shoes?” Sebastian asked eventually.

Without answering, Blaine opened the laces and kicked them off. Sebastian kneeled down, took the broken one and examined it.

“Someone cut into it,” Blaine said. “Look at the other one.” He hadn’t dared to say anything on stage, too afraid that people wouldn’t believe him, but rather think he was being overdramatic, freaking out over nothing. He didn’t have to worry now. Even if Sebastian didn’t believe him, he wouldn’t make fun of him.

Instead of commenting, Sebastian looked at the other shoe first. With a sigh, he put them both down.

“Someone’s messed with them,” he said. “I just don’t get it. Kind of petty, compared with everything else.”

Blaine looked at his hands. It really was strange. He didn’t understand it himself.

“You’re really not hurt?” Sebastian asked.

“I’m fine,” Blaine said. “I’ll just have some water, and then we’ll go back. There’s still so much to rehearse.”

There was a snort. When Blaine looked up, he was surprised to see Sebastian looking irritated.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

Blaine frowned. “What do you mean?”

“This show. I get that your finances are a mess, but you’re literally risking your life here.”

Blaine shook his head. “We’re ruined if this doesn’t work.”

“A lot of people get ruined every day, but it’s better than dying,” Sebastian said. “Or let’s not even go that dark. What if the next piece of scenery actually hits you? What if you get injured and won’t ever be able to go on stage again? What about hospital bills?”

“I’m sorry, is this you _not_ painting it black?” Blaine asked. He didn’t like it. Sebastian was supposed to be on his side. But maybe now he was actually too far on his side, bringing up the thoughts he tried with all might to ban from his mind.

“You’re putting yourself in danger over nothing,” Sebastian said.

“It’s not _nothing_ ,” Blaine protested. “I told you, we’re in debt, we need this. If the show isn’t successful, we’re ruined.”

“Are you though?” Sebastian asked. “Funny. I could have sworn you actually have a degree you can get some use of. Granted, you barely have work experience. But you could definitely score a job as a teacher or something. They’re always looking. And don’t tell me if you were actually being your family wouldn’t step up for you. Last time I checked _your_ parents were still alive.”

Blaine stepped back, surprised at the vitriol in Sebastian’s voice. He shouldn’t be, really. He knew that Sebastian could be cutting with his words, and Kurt might very well be his least favorite person. This though…

“If you’re suggesting I abandon my husband, you better stop talking right now,” Blaine said. “It’s called commitment. We’re building our life together, for better or worse. And if we fail, we’ll do that together, too. But of course, _you_ wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand. You’re going to play the martyr and sit here and be beautifully upset about how horrible everything is, without ever actually doing something about it. Because it would upset people, because it would mean standing up for yourself, and god forbid you’ll inconvenience this sorry excuse for a husband you’ve shackled yourself to. You’d be so much better off if you just looked after yourself for once and left this project.”

“Why do you care?” Blaine asked.

“Why do you think?” Sebastian snapped back. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re running yourself ragged over him, and he doesn’t even give a damn.”

Blaine shook his head. “That’s not true. He loves me.”

“Does he?” Sebastian asked. “It doesn’t exactly look like it. He treats you more like an asset that he can profit from. All he cares about is that you function and do what he wants. There’s a stalker after you, and he doesn’t care. He’d rather pretend everything is fine just so he can get his stupid show off the ground. I’ve looked into some of these accidents, Blaine. Do you realize how lucky you’ve been so far? You could have died, or gotten seriously injured. No show is worth that. Financial ruin is better than this. And it wouldn’t even be that. I’d bet everything you’d manage to land on your feet.”

“Fine, maybe you’re right,” Blaine said. “I could, probably. Between my family and my degree, I might make it through if this fails. But Kurt… he couldn’t. He needs this, and I…” He stopped, almost biting his tongue before the next words came through. He’d never uttered them, and he never would. It was silly, of course. Speaking them couldn’t give them more truth than they already held. But as long as he didn’t speak them, he just might pretend he didn’t believe them. “I can’t abandon him,” he said instead, hoping Sebastian wouldn’t comment on his pause.

“Would he extend the same courtesy to you?” Sebastian asked. “Or has anything so far given you the impression he wouldn’t be willing to throw you under the bus for his career?”

Blaine shook his head. “You don’t understand him. It’s not like that, you always paint him so darkly. Kurt is not a bad person. We’ve just been through a lot. He’s lost… so much. You didn’t see all we’ve been through. All _he’s_ been through. He’s on edge, too. He’s scared. Can’t you try to empathize?”

Sebastian was looking at him, as if he was searching for something in his eyes. He sighed eventually, turning away. “Maybe you empathize too much,” he said. “You need to look after yourself, Blaine. You empathize so much with Kurt, you forget to take care of yourself. If you don’t, who will?”

Blaine shrugged, trying to hide how close to home this one had hit. “I’ve got you,” he said. It was only half joking. Only once he’d spoken the words, he realized that his first thought hadn’t been his husband.

“Look, maybe I’m wrong about Kurt,” Sebastian said. “But why don’t you try it? Talk to him when you see him. Tell him again about the stalker, about the sabotage on your wardrobe. Everything you can think of. There’s no way he’d care for you and not react to this. And then see what he comes up with. And then tomorrow you can tell me if I was right.”

“Okay,” Blaine said. He wasn’t sure just how Kurt would react, but that was a problem he’d deal with when he had to.

* * *

The rest of the rehearsal took longer than Blaine had expected. But they also covered more scenes than planned. With Kurt stormed off, and Chandler sulking, Jesse had taken complete reign over the rehearsal, and it worked surprisingly well. With all his theatrics, Blaine never really thought Jesse could actually know what he’s doing – at least before working for him. Despite what Kurt thought, they were on the right way with this show. He only wished his husband could see it too.

He really wasn’t looking forward to the confrontation that was awaiting him upon returning home. There was a slight hope that the few hours after storming off would have given Kurt enough time to cool off. But really, Blaine feared he’d just grown more resentful.

Unfortunately, Kurt’s mood didn’t seem to have improved during the last few hours. Blaine realized he’d much prefer not to have a conversation, to apologize for the disaster at rehearsal. But he couldn’t push Sebastian’s words out of his mind. It was time to talk. Even if Kurt was sitting at the desk, glaring at papers, and doing his best to ignore Blaine’s presence.

“So the rest of the rehearsal went well,” Blaine said, pretending he’d been given any kind of opening. “We had to iron out a few things, but all in all pretty successful.”

“Wonderful,” Kurt bit back. “Although since my opinion on this clearly doesn’t matter, I’m not sure why you’re even telling me.”

“Stop being ridiculous,” Blaine said, surprised at his own annoyance. “Of course your opinion matters. It’s still your show. But nobody understand why you choose the choreography as the hill you want to die on.” Or at least the hill he expected Blaine to die on.

But somehow, he must have hit a sore spot. Kurt finally turned around, his expression cold fury.

“It’s not about the choreography! It’s about that sleaze coming in and turning over what is supposed to be ours. And everyone, Jesse, and Rachel, and _you!_ You just let him do it! How the hell am I supposed to feel?”

Blaine shook his head. “You’re making this into a thing. It’s _not_ a thing! It’s just a few steps of choreography, don’t make this into some sort of battle between you and Sebastian. This isn’t going to harm your show, it’s going to improve it.”

“How is inferior choreography supposed to improve anything?” Kurt asked.

“It’s not inferior, and at least I can pull it off,” Blaine replied. “Look, I’m sorry, I’ve been trying so hard to do it right, but… I can’t. I keep failing. At least this is something I can do. And Kurt… I’m exhausted. I’m giving everything here, I’m pushing as far as I can go, but I can’t do it. Between the choreography, and the pressure that it all needs to be perfect, and the damn stalker… I feel like I’m falling apart. And sometimes it feels like you don’t care. Like you’d be fine if I crack under the pressure, as long as the show is successful. The changes in choreography… I know you don’t like them, but to me they kind of feel like a lifeline. Like just the hope that I can make it out of this in one piece. I know, you’re under so much pressure. But so am I, and… I’m kind of reaching the end of my rope here. Can’t you at least _try_ to understand me?”

“Oh my god, will you stop it with this stalker nonsense?” Kurt yelled. “There is no stalker, Blaine! We’re being unlucky – like that’s new! – and someone is being an overeager fan. That’s not a stalker, nobody is trying to get you, and how can you even think that you’re the one under pressure? Do you even _know_ what our finances look like? Do you care? No, of course not, you’ve got me to do that. You don’t understand how bad things are. We’re barely scraping by. We can barely cover rent, let alone the show. The stage is falling apart because we can’t afford a better one. If this show is a success, then maybe for the next one we can get a better venue. But this is all we have right now, this is our last chance, and forgive me for not feeling comfortable putting that chance into the hands of Sebastian fucking Smythe!”

“This is _not_ about Sebastian!” Blaine yelled back. “Do you not see what’s going on here? I could get a few accidents, sure. But this isn’t a few accidents! My costume gets sabotaged, even my shoes today, the props are tampered with, someone tried to poison me with almonds, and parts of the scenery randomly fall down on stage, usually on places where I should have stood at exactly that moment. I’m _scared_ , Kurt! And then there are those notes, that-“

“The notes are from me!”

Time seemed to freeze, as Blaine tried to understand just what he just heard. The words were clear, the sentence so simple that there couldn’t be a misunderstanding. Still, it didn’t make any sense at all.

“Wh-what?” he asked, once he found the ability to form words.

“I’ve been writing those notes,” Kurt said. “They’re not from some stalker. I just… wanted to motivate you.”

Blaine stared at him, shaking his head. It felt like a pit had opened up under his feet, looming open and waiting to drag him down.

“Why would you do that?” he asked. The words from some of the notes sprang up in his mind.

“ _A miracle if we can make it despite you_.”

“ _To think we could have had anyone but you._ ”

“ _If you have to step off a cliff, could you not take the show with you_.”

It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t. He refused the mere possibility. Because if Kurt could do something like this to him… What then?

“Look, I’m not really happy with this whole note business,” Kurt said, as if he hadn’t just dropped a complete bombshell on him. “But it was necessary. When you’re on stage… when we’re rehearsing… I have to watch you as a producer, not as your husband. If I want to get the best performance out of you, I need to see all the things that aren’t working. All the flaws. I can’t stand there as your loving husband, telling you that whatever you do is amazing. I have to be critical.”

Blaine frowned. He obviously had noticed that. He barely remembered any positive feedback he’d gotten from Kurt over this whole production. There was always something to improve, always something that wasn’t good enough.

“The thing is,” Kurt continued, “I know you. I know you’re willing to put in any work necessary, that’s never been the problem. That’s why I trust you to bring this show to success. But I also know that you kind of need the praise. And I did want to let you know how well you’re doing. See? That’s the conflict. As your husband, I want to encourage you. But as your producer, I need to get the best performance possible out of you. So I thought… why not separate those two? That’s when I came up with the note. Not to mention, there’s a certain romance to it. So, at rehearsals I told you the things you need to improve. And then I sent you notes telling you all the things that are great. This way you could get the praise you need, while still striving to do better.”

Everything felt numb. This was the reason Kurt spent the last few months tearing him down in public, again and again? No word of praise or encouragement, because what? He thought Blaine would get lazy if he got any positive feedback from his husband? And still, there was something else that didn’t make sense.

“So, you see, the notes have nothing to do with anything,” Kurt said. “There’s no stalker, Blaine. It’s just bad luck.”

“ _A miracle if we can make it despite you_ ,” Blaine said.

“What?” Kurt asked, looking at him in confusion.

“ _If you have to step off a cliff, could you not take the show with you_ ,” Blaine spat out. “How is that supposed to encourage me to do anything? What is _wrong_ with you that you even come up with something like that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You just said you wrote those notes,” Blaine said. “Then tell me. Why would you write something like that? What exactly are you trying to encourage me to do, jump off a bridge?!”

“I never wrote something like that,” Kurt protested.

“But I got that as a note!”

To his credit, Kurt paled. Suddenly, he looked younger, vulnerable, and just a bit scared.

Good, at least he felt a fraction of what Blaine had gone through.

“There aren’t just nice notes,” Blaine said. “Some of them scare me. Some of them are…” He stopped, shaking his head. “If you only sent me encouragements… well, then I guess there’s someone else writing me notes. Threatening ones. Tell me again how this is all in my head, Kurt. _Tell me_!”

Kurt stared at him, shaking his head. “I… I don’t know,” he said. “Are you sure about this?”

Even now, he didn’t want to accept the possibility that something more was going on here. Of course, if there was a stalker, there was the necessity of getting more support. And that would mean calling in backup, maybe even the police. That would mean this was serious, couldn’t be ignored.

No matter how much he wanted to.

Blaine felt himself starting to shake. It almost felt like the ground he was standing on was starting to break away underneath him. And he couldn’t… he just… he knew he couldn’t face it. He couldn’t even look at Kurt. He had to leave.

On some level, he could hear Kurt talk, but none of the words even registered with him. Like a blind man, he stumbled back, not even seeing where he was going, just out. Away.

* * *

When Blaine finally stopped, the theater was looming over him. He wasn’t quite surprised that this is where his steps led him, even though he right now wished the whole thing would burn down. What was even the point?

He was doing this for Kurt, owed it to his husband to be perfect and get them out of this nightmare they had fallen into. He was the only one who could do it, and Kurt depended on him.

But did he care?

Or was he running himself ragged, and into the ground, over someone who didn’t even care for him? What kind of love was this even supposed to be, that Kurt didn’t even feel able to tell Blaine to his face that he was doing well at anything?

What if Sebastian was right? What if saving himself was the best thing he could do at this point?

It was this damn show. Sometimes, Blaine wished Kurt had never gotten the idea for this show. But here he was. What a joke.

And as if on cue, it started to rain.

Well, as much as he hated the theater, it was better than getting completely drenched. He hurried inside, taking shelter from the beginning storm. It would be fine. There were towels in his dressing room, and probably also a hoodie to keep him warm on his way back home. Most importantly, it would be empty at this time in the evening.

Except, it wasn’t.

As Blaine approached his dressing room, a sliver of light fell through the slightly open door onto the corridor, and he could hear a voice talking.

A shudder went through him. Something was wrong. Who’d be in there? Nobody had a real reason to. The next thought, and this one shocked him to the core, was that it had to be the stalker. Who else?

He froze, wondering what to do. He should get help. But who was here? Who could he call? No, this could be his chance to figure out what was going on, to confront the phantom that haunted this whole production. He was done running away.

He was almost at the door, when he recognized the voice.

Sebastian.

Now, that didn’t make sense at all. Sebastian had nothing to do with the stalking. The notes had started long before Jesse had hired him. And Sebastian cared for him, wouldn’t hurt him on purpose.

Confused, Blaine stepped closer, looking into the room.

Sebastian was sitting in front of the mirror, apparently going through the dresser drawers, looking for something. He held his phone to his ear, talking to someone. Strange enough, he seemed to be wearing gloves.

“Well, if they’re all gone at once he’ll definitely notice. Step by step is definitely less conspicuous. One note at a time. Unless you’re willing to drop this damn charade? …yes, I _know_ why, it’s just dumb.”

Blaine frowned, not sure what that meant. But it was obvious that Sebastian had been hiding things from him.

“Damn… I would have bet he keeps them here… What? Yes, obviously, I’m taking a look at that too. Looks kind of creepy, honestly. The whole mirror thing is just too Phantom of the Opera…”

Sebastian stood up now, checking the lights of the mirror. As he stood up, his cardigan shifted, showing a glance of the shirt underneath.

And the handle of a gun, just so visible above his belt.

Blaine gasped in shock – and immediately clasped his hands over his mouth. But it was too late. Sebastian turned around, his eyes fixing on Blaine immediately.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said into his phone, dropping it to the dresser, before completely focusing on Blaine. “Don’t freak out, I can explain.”

“You have a gun,” Blaine said, staring at Sebastian as if he had never seen him before. He couldn’t have been this wrong about him… He just… no. Not Sebastian. If he couldn’t trust Sebastian, then who did he have left?

“I do,” Sebastian said. He raised his hands in a calming gesture, also one that took them far from the gun in his belt. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, I’m sorry.”

“What does a choreographer need a gun for?” Blaine asked. He realized his voice was high, just a hint of hysteria in there, but he didn’t care. 

“I’m not actually here as a choreographer,” Sebastian said.

“Jesse hired you,” Blaine protested. “For the choreography…”

“Actually, no. That’s just a cover,” Sebastian said. “He hired the agency I’m working for. I’m a private investigator, Blaine. I’m here to keep you safe.”


	5. A Dream And Nothing More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing this fic, I hadn't expected writing Blaine's POV in this would end up so exhausting.   
> I honestly just want to pack him up in bubble-wrap and ship him to therapy. (Sebastian agrees.)   
> It's funny, how the first thing that I loved about Blaine was how he was so positive and confident and ray-of-sunshine, and now I go and keep writing him into angst. (then again, the show did the same). Let's call it carthasis.  
> Anyway, on to the story, hope you enjoy.

* * *

Outside, the rain had turned into a storm, howling so loud that traces could be heard even down here, in the theater’s belly. Far above them, water was crashing down onto the roof. But down here, far inside, it was muffled. Muted. Under the bright lights in his dressing room, multiplied by the enormous three panel mirror reflecting them back on themselves, wrapped in a warm hoodie he kept here for comfort, and a steaming cup of coffee Sebastian had produced for him, Blaine felt removed from it all – from the weather and storm, from his fears and worries, from everything. The eye of the storm. He felt calm, and warm, and inexplicably, safe.

Sebastian was standing there, looking down to where he sat, watching him with a curious look on his face.

“You’re taking this pretty well,” he said eventually.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Blaine asked. “I mean… I don’t really get it. Why you kept this from me. But…” He shrugged. “I already knew you wanted to keep me safe. It’s not that much of a surprise.”

“Well, it wasn’t my idea,” Sebastian said. “The whole secrecy. It’s part of the deal Jesse made with Gray, my boss. It’s honestly not how we usually operate…”

“What do you mean?” Blaine asked, watching him.

“Our agency is specialized on stalking cases,” Sebastian explained. “Gray Dubois is considered one of the authorities on stalking cases. He even published books about stalkers’ psychological profiles. He investigated some really high-profile cases.”

There was that tone again. The way he’d talked about his mentor in Paris. Or back then about his grandfather. That soft admiration that made him seem younger, just a bit less jaded.

“Usually in cases we analyze all the data, trying to figure out if the threat is serious or not, and how to find the culprit. That’s what my coworkers are doing. But a few things in this case seemed… dangerous. Threatening. So, I offered to come in as an on-site bodyguard. Now, with everything happening at the theater, chances are very high that whoever is stalking you is part of the production. That’s one reason why I was brought in undercover as a choreographer, to not cause suspicion while still being able to keep an eye on you.”

“You could have told me,” Blaine said.

“Trust me, I wanted to,” Sebastian said. “But there’s the other reason I’m undercover. See, for some reason Kurt is completely against any form of investigation. Jesse prefers him not to know about our involvement, so he doesn’t have to deal with any tantrums. And considering how you’ve always been completely abysmal at keeping secrets from Kurt…” Sebastian rolled his eyes, which was to be expected.

“Well, we’ll see if I improved in that regard,” Blaine replied. “Although… he might actually be in board with an investigation now.”

“I thought he still didn’t believe there is a stalker,” Sebastian said, frowning

“Well, that probably changed,” Blaine said. “He didn’t believe in the stalker because of the notes.”

“Because of the one tangible proof that there _is_ a stalker?” Sebastian asked, still skeptical. 

“He didn’t think the notes were real,” Blaine said. “Because… well, he wrote some of them.”

Sebastian stared at him, eyebrows rising to a point it looked comical. “Excuse me?”

Blaine shrugged, turning his gaze towards the mirror. It still didn’t make sense in his mind. But the surprise about Sebastian had pushed away the pain for at least a bit. Now, it was slowly streaming back in.

“He wrote me notes,” he said. “The nice ones. The ones complimenting me. Kurt wrote those. See, he couldn’t tell me if I was doing something right. That would make me… I don’t know, lazy? Stop striving to improve? Start slacking off? So, whenever he saw me perform, he’d just point out every fucking thing I did wrong, and what I need to improve. Because god forbid my _husband_ gives me any form of encouragement. I might actually walk out of here not completely depressed, and obviously we can’t have that.”

Sebastian looked at him incredulously, slowly shaking his head. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“But hey, he can’t cut me down completely all the time,” Blaine continued. More than the pain, he started feeling himself get angry. Such a strange feeling, to be angry at Kurt. Like he had any right to… And still, as he kept talking, it became even stronger. “No, obviously he does think I do some things right. So, he wrote me anonymous notes with compliments, so I get at least some positive feedback. I mean, let’s pretend that’s what they were. Last I checked constructive feedback is actually constructive. And concrete. Not waxing poetics about ‘you’re so wonderful’ compared to dozens and dozens of times telling me why exactly I suck. Oh, but the whole thing was only necessary because apparently, I’m a fucking _child_ that needs to get a pat on their head all the time or they start crying. It’s not even meant as encouragement. Just as appeasement!” And damn, maybe he was a child, because he actually felt himself tearing up a bit. But no. He pushed it down, tried instead to hold on to the anger. There was something liberating about the feeling.

“But you told him about the notes,” Sebastian said. “He must have noticed that you were freaking out about more than that.”

“Well, apparently not. He’s always been dismissive when I tried to tell him. I never like quoted any to him. So, he probably just heard me talking about notes, and then stopped paying attention, because in his mind he already knew what I was going on about and that it wasn’t anything threatening. And then, when we were arguing… He just… he told me the notes were from him, and I couldn’t believe he would do that to me…” He still couldn’t, even if it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had seemed at first. But still, even without the threats, the whole thing was just so…

Unfair. Demeaning. Lacking any form of respect or actual consideration. And the worst thing about it was that Kurt so obviously couldn’t see it. Blaine could imagine it, Kurt sitting down, faking his handwriting, probably all giddy about coming up with such a romantic idea as secret notes, completely ignoring that Blaine was dancing his heart out, just to be shown a scrap of affection, and always disappointed.

A step too far. The anger crumpled underneath him, and the pain broke through. What a joke…

He pulled the hoodie closer around himself and looked down. Anywhere but at Sebastian, and that knowing look on his face. There’d been a time when he wasn’t falling apart at every second. He barely remembered it anymore. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like this, toppling on the edge, close to falling off.

“Wow,” Sebastian said, after what felt like an eternity of hesitating. “I guess it makes sense, though. Not _why_ he did it,” he said quickly when he noticed the expression on Blaine’s face. “It’s just that we noticed there’s a different tone between these notes. They didn’t make sense as one picture. But as two pictures, two people… it fits a lot better. We can ignore the ones Kurt sent. Those other ones… look, I don’t want to freak you out anymore than you already are, but those? They sound serious. They definitely fit the pattern of someone who is an actual threat.”

Blaine sighed, resting his head in his hand. “And my own husband almost obscured it, because of some weird idea of romance.”

“Okay, I’m not an expert of romance,” Sebastian said. “But that? That sounds fucked up.”

Blaine looked up, and their eyes met again, just for a moment. “It is,” he admitted. “It’s like he doesn’t even care about me.” He shouldn’t have said it. Not out loud. Not to Sebastian.

“He doesn’t,” Sebastian replied. “If he did, he’d react to you basically falling apart in front of him. He’d care more about your comfort than some stupid choreography steps. He’d listen to you, or to Jesse, not to himself and that little lapdog of his.”

“That’s not fair,” Blaine said, his involuntary reaction still to defend his husband, even if he himself didn’t believe it.

Obviously, Sebastian wouldn’t.

“Then why can’t he encourage you? Why are you pushing beyond injury to fulfill his vision? Is that how your husband cares for you? Because honestly, you might be better off without it.”

Blaine bit his lip, trying to find an argument against it.

“Kurt does not care about you,” Sebastian said. “Do you want to know who actually cares about you?”

_You_.

The word sprang to his mind immediately, but this time Blaine stopped himself, instead opting to meet Sebastian’s gaze in a silent challenge.

“Rachel.”

Blaine blinked, a frown forming, as the name sank in – not one he’d expected. Of course, he knew that Rachel cared about him. She actually noticed when he wasn’t doing well, encouraged him, and worried about him. There were things you couldn’t go through together without becoming close, and that accident certainly counted. Still, he didn’t expect Sebastian to pick up on that. “Why Rachel?” he asked.

“She’s the one who found the agency. She’s the one who insisted something had to be done to protect you. That’s why she got Jesse to hire us. I think she got the money from her mother, but she’s also the one paying the agency. Last time I checked she was Kurt’s best friend, not yours. And yet, here she is moving heaven and earth to keep you safe, while Kurt just sits back and puts his fingers in his ears, hoping if he ignores reality, it can’t hurt him. Or you, in this case.”

“Why are you doing this?” Blaine asked.

Sebastian stopped, as if the steam he’d been picking up was running out already. “I need you to understand what’s going on,” he said. “What’s at stake. And just who you’re risking your life for. Because he does not deserve this kind of loyalty.”

Blaine shook his head. Sebastian didn’t understand. He didn’t know, even if he had all the puzzle pieces for something that was so obvious to Blaine, it was deafening.

“I can’t leave,” he said. “I just… I can’t. I have to see this through.”

“You’re too good for him,” Sebastian said.

Blaine looked away. He really wasn’t. Funny, how Sebastian could see right through him with barely a glance and still couldn’t see that.

Sebastian deflated, and there was something desperate in the way he looked at Blaine. But he sighed, eventually. “I’ll keep you safe,” he said. “Of course, I’ll keep you safe. But Blaine… this isn’t worth it.”

He thought back to when Kurt had first pitched the show to him. _I know it will be hard. It will work. I know you can do this. This will fix everything. It will be worth it._

It would be worth it.

If he ran from this life, where could he even go? Who was he even, if he abandoned Kurt now? After everything?

It had to be.

* * *

Blaine woke with a start at the sound of his alarm, panic clutching at his throat. It took him a moment to notice his surroundings, to realize there was no danger. He was lying in their bed, the other half empty, and sunlight was streaming through the window.

He tried to slow his breathing. Whatever it was that had haunted his nightmares, it had already faded, diffused. Like a shadow, it melted under the sunlight. But just not remembering his nightmares didn’t mean he felt any calmer.

With the fear fading, other things came into focus. His eyes felt dry, exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept nearly enough. It had been a restless night. By the time he’d come home, their apartment had been empty. He went to bed alone, neither knowing nor particularly caring where his husband had gone but woken up several times through the night. The sheets beside him were still untouched.

As he stood under the shower, he wondered what it would be like to just run. To disappear. Dissolve into the water, and not return. Would it really matter? For the production, yes. But who would actually care?

Rachel’s face appeared before his eyes, warm and smiling with tears in her eyes. The twins, their little arms reaching out to him. And another pair of eyes, green, observant.

He turned the water cold, let the sudden ice paralyze his brain. Shuddering, he stepped out of the shower, blindly grabbing for a towel.

He had to get to the theater.

It was strange, he thought as he walked up to the building, how different it looked compared to last night. Brighter, not nearly as daunting. There was still a stalker, still the pressure. Sebastian had been an ally before yesterday’s revelation. And still, something felt different.

“You’re late,” Chandler greeted him as he entered, once more looking like he was sucking on a lemon. He was right, of course, but since when was it his business?

“Sebastian doesn’t mind,” Blaine replied. They would go over the first act’s finale today, an ambitious warm-up to the ensemble rehearsals later.

“Well, Kurt might,” Chandler said. “He and Jesse want to see you, in Jesse’s office.”

Blaine bit his tongue, and for a moment he felt insecure. He didn’t even know where Kurt had slept. How come someone like Chandler knew more about his husband’s location than he did? He eyed Chandler for a moment, wondering how far that possessiveness he showed sometimes came from, just from his imagination, a couple of texts from almost twenty years ago, or maybe something else…

But no. Ridiculous.

Without another word, he left Chandler standing there and made his way to Jesse’s office. Whatever it was, he hoped it would be dealt with quickly. He had a few moves to polish.

When he entered Jesse’s office, he found the both of them looking at a laptop screen. Kurt looked just a bit unpolished. He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn the day before, but there were barely any wrinkles on it. There was just the hint of shadows under his eyes, the only sign ever that his night had been just as restless as Blaine’s.

“Kurt and I had a little chat yesterday,” Jesse said after greeting him. “About your stalker.”

He cast a glance at Kurt, daring him to protest. But for once, his husband looked actually humbled, avoiding his eyes. Sometimes he was surprised he could still be disappointed. Not that an apology would really help. The absence of one, on the other hand…

“And to what conclusions did you come?” Blaine asked instead, taking a closer look at the website. He could quite read most of the text on it, and the pictures itself weren’t really disclosing more information, three shots of different men and women in suits looking professional. But a few words did catch his eye.

Gray Dubois and Associates, Private Investigations

“Since we’re all on the same page about the stalker, we’ve decided to involve a PI agency,” Jesse explained. “We took the liberty to research a bit, and these guys seem like our best shot. I’ll contact them, let them take a look on everything we got so far. We’re taking care of this, don’t worry.”

Blaine frowned, trying to figure out just what Jesse was playing at. What was he talking about? He’d hired them already, why keep it a secret now, if Kurt was on board? Why not just reveal the truth, including the reason for Sebastian’s presence? But as he caught Jesse’s eye, he noticed something else, a tightening around his eyes, just the hint of a warning. _Don’t say it. Play along._

He looked at Kurt again, who was still avoiding his eyes. But the slump in his shoulders was unmistakable – he knew he’d been wrong. He was trying to fix it. Actions above words.

Before he could say anything else, it knocked at the door.

They all looked up as the door opened and Sebastian entered. Blaine’s shoulders slumped slightly, just the faintest bit of tension draining from him.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at seeing Blaine, then Kurt, before looking to Jesse. If he noticed the website still open, he didn’t show any reaction to it. Blaine always envied people who could hold a poker face.

“So that’s were you’re keeping him,” Sebastian said. “I was wondering where you were, killer.”

“I got held up,” Blaine said. “Jesse is-“

“We were discussing a few production details,” Kurt said. So now he could talk… “Dance practice can wait.”

“That’s new,” Blaine muttered. As if he hadn’t been torn to pieces over the damn choreography for weeks.

“And here I thought the dancing is essential,” Sebastian said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“I assume you’re not just here to fetch Blaine?” Jesse asked. He closed his laptop, as if there was any point in hiding the website from Sebastian. “Do you need anything?”

“Just Blaine,” Sebastian said

Simple. To the point. And Blaine had to look to the ground, once more cursing his too revealing face.

“Sure, take him,” Jesse said with a shrug. “We still have some details to go over, but Kurt can fill you in later.”

“Actually, I wasn’t talking about right now,” Sebastian said. “I’ve been thinking he could use some sort of boot camp. Now, before you say anything, I know you don’t have all the time in the world, and that the schedule is kind of tight at the moment. But give me one day, and I’ll have him in almost perfect shape.”

“With the way you’ve simplified the choreography I doubt he needs it,” Kurt bit back.

“And I’m sure you’re completely attuned to what he needs,” Sebastian replied, seemingly unmoved by the comment. But before he could escalate the situation further, his phone rang. He answered, a small frown appearing on his face. “What? Right. Give me a moment.” Without another word he left the room. Blaine just caught a glimpse of his face. There was concern, and that worried him more than anything. Whatever that was, it had to be important. Blaine felt his nerves flare up. Was he in danger? What was going on?

“We’re not doing this,” Kurt said. “I can’t believe we’re even talking about this. We don’t have time for this!”

“Our schedule is pretty tight,” Jesse agreed. “Although he is the expert…”

“He’s not an expert!” Kurt protested. “And I don’t trust him.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Jesse said. “He can’t possibly have any connection to this stalker thing.”

“What? No, that’s not…” Kurt shook his head. “I don’t trust him around Blaine.”

Blaine couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Not this again,” he said. “Aren’t we a bit old for high school drama?”

“Tell _him_ ,” Kurt muttered.

“I’m sure Sebastian has a good reason to suggest this,” Blaine said. He wasn’t sure what that reason could be. Nothing in their latest trainings had sounded like Blaine was still bad enough to need a boot camp. Still, he trusted Sebastian.

“He probably just wants to whisk you away from the theater for a day,” Kurt said. “And we do not have the time. The rehearsals are on a tight schedule. Only a few days till dress rehearsal, opening night is next week. We can’t afford our lead to take a day off to entertain some creep.”

“How exactly is he creepy?” Jesse asked, frowning.

“There’s… history,” Kurt said, avoiding the real issue. “And that’s not the point.”

Although, when it came to Sebastian, this always was Kurt’s point.

And finally, Kurt turned to Blaine. “Look, I’m sorry for the way I acted. That I underestimated this whole thing. We’re fixing it now. But this? This isn’t going to help with anything. You don’t need it, and we need you here. You understand that, right?”

He understood that this conversation would go a completely different way if Sebastian was here.

“I understand you need to keep an eye on your assets,” he said instead. He knew his tone was just a tad bit too cold, too harsh. It definitely hit, he could see that in Kurt’s eyes, the miniscule flinch. Good.

“That’s not fair,” Kurt said. Unlike Blaine, his voice sounded soft, small, and reminded him so much of the boy he once fell in love with, it felt like a punch to the gut.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine said, trying to wrestle down the guilt rising inside him, even as another little voice in his head was protesting, because yes, this wasn’t fair, but for completely different reasons than Kurt thought.

“Maybe this isn’t the best idea,” Jesse said. “Let’s just focus on today’s schedule. I’ll talk to Sebastian later, maybe he can give me a better picture on why he thinks it’s necessary. But for now, it’s a no.”

Blaine closed his eyes, trying to keep calm, controlled. This wasn’t leading anywhere. He suddenly wanted to be done with this conversation. “If you’ll excuse me, we still have to go over some of the choreography.”

He turned to the door, not even waiting for a response. He didn’t really expect one.

“Wait!”

He stopped, of course. He was too used to following this voice to not have it in his instincts.

“Blaine, I really am sorry.”

That even made him turn around. Kurt was finally looking at him, pleading with his eyes. “I should have listened,” he said. “I should have taken you seriously, then I would have realized so much sooner that there was something going on with the notes. I guess I just didn’t want to believe it. But that’s no excuse.”

Blaine wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that. It was what he had wanted to hear. But now? Nothing.

“I understand how it might seem to you that I care more about the production. But that’s not true. You are so much more important. I… I do love you.”

He heard the words, sincere as they were. Words he had so often wanted to hear in the last few years. That he told himself were true millions of times. That were becoming harder and harder to believe. And still, he didn’t have it in them to call them a lie. If he did that… he’d understand, of course he would. But how on earth could he go on, if he did?

He’d deserve it.

And Kurt was still looking at him, waiting, pleading for him to say something.

“I know,” Blaine said, keeping up the masquerade they’d been playing for years

Kurt’s shoulders sagged, maybe in relief. Probably not resignation.

“It will be okay, Blaine.”

“I know,” he repeated. “Just… I have to start with the choreography.”

“Of course,” Kurt said. “Jesse and I have a few more things to discuss anyway.”

Blaine tried to smile, hoped it wasn’t quite as much of a grimace as he feared, before he could finally turn, leave the room. He breathed out in relief, when he saw Sebastian still here, leaning against the corridor wall. He was still on his phone, something tense in his expression. Blaine waited for a moment until he finished the conversation.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Not here,” Sebastian replied. “Come on, we might as well get to the studio.”

They walked in silence. Blaine wasn’t sure just what was going on. Then again, there didn’t seem to be any imminent danger.

The moment the door closed behind them, Sebastian spoke.

“So… your understudy is out of commission. He was one of our suspects, so we had someone check him out. They found him passed out in his apartment. Accidental overdose, at least that’s what it looks like.”

Another dose of cold water. “Is he going to be okay?” Blaine asked. His thought went to Leo, always so close to the edge. Too much pressure, even for an understudy. No wonder he cracked.

Sebastian watched him closely. “Probably,” he said. “It also makes it pretty unlikely that he had anything to do with it.”

Blaine sat down on a bench, shaking his head. “I could have told you that,” he said, quelling all but a hint of annoyance from his voice. From the expression on Sebastian’s face as he walked closer, it didn’t quite work. “Did you think he was trying to off me for my role? He was about to quit half the time.”

“Strange attitude for an understudy,” Sebastian remarked.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, this production isn’t exactly working on usual terms. Or at all,” Blaine replied, looking down. “Honestly, there wouldn’t even be an understudy if Jesse hadn’t insisted. Kurt is convinced I’m the only person who can do it anyway.”

“Right,” Sebastian said, his eyes narrowing just a tiny bit.

It reminded Blaine of something else.

“Jesse just told us they’re hiring your agency,” he said. “And Kurt is suddenly fine with it.”

“I guess even he can’t stay in denial forever,” Sebastian said, rolling his eyes. “Jesse called me yesterday to tell me. From what I gathered your husband told him all about the notes business. I could hear Rachel yelling at him in the background…”

Another wave of fondness for Rachel washed over him, but it didn’t distract from his actual question.

“Why is your involvement still a secret?” he asked. “Why not tell Kurt that you’re here to protect me?”

Just a twitch on Sebastian’s mouth, but it was enough of a tell. So, there was a story there.

“Why would you not tell him?” he asked again.

“I told you, I’m not just undercover so Kurt doesn’t throw a fit. It’s also because we suspect the stalker to be part of the production, someone in the theater. Your understudy would have been the logical choice, although not the only one. That Chandler person definitely seems to have it out for you. But we haven’t narrowed it down yet. We can’t take the risk of the stalker realizing he’s being investigated.”

Legal speak, that’s how Sebastian had called it, all those years ago, when they were teenagers complaining about their respective fathers and their convoluted style of communication. Using a lot of words, without actually saying anything. And still, the meaning hit Blaine like a bullet.

“You can’t honestly think it’s Kurt,” he said, surprised that his voice even carried. He felt like suffocating. No. Not this. He refused to even think about it.

Sebastian shrugged, although he wouldn’t meet his eye. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Spouses make for great prime suspects,” he said. “Add financial troubles, strained marriage… I assume you have a life insurance?”

Blaine stood up, took a few steps back. “I did. We cashed out on that months ago. Same as his. This is… ridiculous. My husband is _not_ stalking me, and he’s not trying to kill me.”

“Although you have to consider the publicity of someone stalking your lead. Isn’t that the kind of drama or scandal that sells out tickets?”

“It’s not him,” Blaine replied. “This is ridiculous! You can’t honestly believe that!”

For a moment, they looked at each other, a stale mate between them. For once, Sebastian was the one who broke their staring contest.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “But we can’t rule it out, yet. Every theory is being considered, not just mine.” He hesitated, before he continued. “Everyone is investigated. Even Jesse. Rachel. _You_.”

Blaine flinched back.

“How can you even say that?” he asked, his voice barely there.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Because I know it’s ridiculous,” he replied. “Do you think I’d share this with you if I considered that for even a second?”

He did have a point. Blaine felt himself deflate. He leaned against the wall, unsure if he could keep standing without it. Such a mess. Sebastian stepped closer. He put a hand on Blaine’s arm, softly, and yet steady.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine muttered. “I know you’re on my side, it’s just…” He sighed. Just a long day. Long week, month, year, decade…

“I get it,” Sebastian said. “This whole show… Everyone here is miserable.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Blaine rebuked, although he didn’t have much conviction himself.

“Your understudy just overdosed,” Sebastian said, “you’re getting closer to a breakdown with every single day. This is exactly why I wanted this damn boot camp day.”

Blaine snorted. “Kurt thought it’s just an excuse to whisk me away from the production for a day.” Ridiculous to suggest. Ridiculous to think Blaine would get along with it.

“Huh,” Sebastian said, and for a moment he looked almost impressed. “So, he figured it out…”

Blaine blinked, surprised at the turn their conversation took. “Wait… was he right?”

Sebastian chuckled. “I’m afraid I have to plead guilty with that one,” he said. “Don’t look so surprised. Can you honestly tell me you couldn’t use a day off?”

Blaine frowned. “Not this close to opening night,” he said.

“I’m serious,” Sebastian said. “It’s getting to you. The pressure, the stalking… when’s the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”

He couldn’t even remember, if he was completely honest. But Sebastian wasn’t done making his point.

“When’s the last time you spent a day… hell, even an hour, focusing on what you want, or need? When is the last time you actually took a break?”

Blaine turned away, looked to the ground, even as he was cursing his face, too transparent, that was bound to tell Sebastian all he needed to know. How close he was to breaking.

He couldn’t break.

“So, you planned a day off?” he asked instead.

He could hear the grin in Sebastian’s voice. “Just goofing off. Maybe do some of that touristy stuff that I bet you absolutely love. Just to get you out of your head. You need a break, Blaine. And I mean more than five minutes between dance numbers.”

Blaine could imagine it. Going up the Empire State building, taking a ferry to see the Statue of Liberty, walking through Central Park… Going sightseeing, taking in all he fell in love with in this city. A whole day without responsibilities. It would be ridiculous, and he wouldn’t even pretend that his enjoyment was ironic. Sebastian would try to act like he was too cool for all of it – just like that teenager appalled at not being served liquor at a coffee shop – but he’d keep it up for probably all of ten minutes before he’d allow himself to be swept away by it all, if only for how much Blaine would love every second of it. It would have been fun.

Fun.

What a foreign concept.

“I’d like that,” he said softly. _But we can’t_. The words unspoken, just like they’d been since the day they met.

He gave way when Sebastian softly pulled, allowed himself just a moment of weakness to sink against him, the cotton of his shirt soft and fresh against his skin, Sebastian’s arms more stabilizing than really holding him, and still, unmistakably there. For a moment, he raised his head. From the mirrors around them, he could see their reflections. Close, yet barely touching. A possibility. A thing that could have been.

Maybe then.

But here he was. Here they were.

_But we can’t_.

“We should practice,” Blaine said, even as he inhaled deeply, taking in the warmth, and the scent.

For just a second, Sebastian gripped him tighter. “This isn’t worth it, Blaine.”

He still didn’t get it, and Blaine didn’t have it in him to explain. Instead, he sighed, allowing himself a few more stolen moments in an embrace he didn’t deserve.

It wasn’t. How could it be? But that wasn’t the point.

_The show must go on._


	6. Ordeal By Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Madness is like gravity. All it takes is one little push."  
> (aka the one in which Blaine finally snaps)  
> (aka this one is weird, you have been warned)
> 
> ...yeah, I feel like I should say things, but I kind of can't? So, the last part is probably super awkward, at least I felt awkward writing it, and please forgive the major stream-of-consciousness that's going on in the chapter (and this note).  
> This is also one of the times when I wonder if I'm doing myself a favor with a limited POV or if it would have been a better idea to jump into Sebastian's head for a bit... but hey, these are the (self-imposed) rules.  
> (also, oh look, the rating changed)  
> (also, I'm going back into hiding. ...where's that gin?)

* * *

With all the changes to the choreography, Blaine had actually started to like the final number. It had a strong, triumphant energy, the music catchy enough that it would certainly stay in the audience’s mind for a long time after, the costumes colorful and brilliant, and now, so close to dress rehearsal, things were finally coming together.

Or at least they should be. But as they went through the latest rehearsal, Blaine had trouble keeping up.

“No, stop, that won’t do.” Jesse’s voice interrupted them, as Blaine once more mis-stepped, almost crashing into another actor.

Blaine closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could ignore Chandler’s eternal criticism. But if Jesse was complaining, he really needed to step up. He wasn’t even sure why this had gotten so hard. Opening night was approaching, his choreography was more manageable than ever… Things should be looking up.

Instead, it felt like he was wading through a river of muck, everything gray, everything just such a chore. At some point, performing had filled him with joy, with a spark. And sometimes, it still did.

Maybe it was this production, maybe it really had sapped him off the joy he used to feel. He took another breath, imagined that day off he never got.

After opening night, he told himself. No matter what Kurt would say, after opening night he’d find a way to take a day off. A day to breathe. He’d make Sebastian take him to Coney Island or something…

“From the top,” Jesse said.

Blaine nodded, pretended he’d heard any of the criticism. He took another look at the audience. Chandler was staring daggers at him, Jesse seemed slightly concerned. He allowed himself one glance at Sebastian, a frown on his face, watching him carefully. Kurt wasn’t there, an appointment at another bank, even though both of them knew nothing would come from it.

He went back to the starting position, ignoring the way the other actors looked at him. The music started playing, he threw himself into the song. As hard as it was, he tried to focus, put everything into the performance. His smile was wide to the point of grimace, and his voice strong. The steps had to be fine, just right, and-

Jolene bumped into him, disturbing his rhythm. It took Blaine a moment to realize that for once it wasn’t him that had made a mistake, even as she apologized to him.

“Seriously, people, focus!” Jesse yelled.

“Blaine, you’re way too far on the left,” Chandler snarled. “This is not so hard, come on!”

 _Then you go do it_ , Blaine thought, but swallowed it down. He knew his dislike for Chandler was coloring his perception, maybe not only his. Sebastian was suspecting him, and Blaine almost felt guilty for it. A few days ago, he would have considered it, but by now he couldn’t imagine it. The news of Leo’s overdose had hit everyone hard, and definitely shaken Chandler. Whatever his faults – and there were many, Blaine held no illusions – he really wanted the show to succeed, at least for Kurt’s sake.

Still, his constant complaining was frustrating. He shot another look at Sebastian, hoping for a word of defense. But Sebastian was looking at his phone, reading something. Blaine’s first reaction was a jab of hurt, until he noticed the slight clench in his expression. A shudder went over his spine. Something serious, probably.

As everyone returned to their positions, he saw Sebastian getting to his feet, already putting the phone to his ear.

Definitely serious.

Blaine closed his eyes, trying to calm down. Just because it was serious, it didn’t mean he was in imminent danger, not to mention in that case Sebastian would not leave his side.

Focus. Why was it so hard to focus?

The music began playing. Blaine started again, beaming, singing, throwing himself into the music and into the movements. It wasn’t working, and it wasn’t just him. There was a nervous energy right now, the whole cast just a little bit antsy.

Focus.

He turned round, leaning on the black and white cane he was using in the number, just a bit too heavy… It gave way, the handle loosening, and Blaine could just so stop himself from falling over. Around him, people stopped, and again, it was all messed up.

Blaine stared at the handle in his hand. As he tried to calm his breathing, he looked at the wood, and… was that sawed off? It had to be…

Someone asked if he was okay, but all he could do was stare at it, and-

“What the hell is wrong with you today?” Chandler yelled. “Seriously, if Kurt could see this…”

“If Kurt saw this, he still wouldn’t want you!”

Everything was silent for a moment, a moment that Blaine actually needed to register that he had said that. It took him even longer to recognize that feeling clawing up his throat.

Anger.

Chandler stared at him, his mouth open. “How dare you…”

“Guys,” Jesse said, “this isn’t necessary-“

“Isn’t it?” Blaine asked. “For weeks I’ve had to listen to him sucking up to Kurt, trying to tell him and you and everyone what a failure I am. Well, fuck you, Chandler. It’s not my fault you couldn’t move on from a one week texting thing in high school, so stop taking it out on me!”

“How about you stop destroying Kurt’s life and actually put in an effort?” Chandler shouted back, his voice a screech in Blaine’s ears.

“Enough!”

Jesse’s voice boomed through the theater, a rare reminder of just how profound his vocal coaching had been.

“Now, I will not have any ridiculous fights between you,” Jesse said, his voice still booming, commanding attention. “Everyone will take five and calm down. Afterwards, Chandler, you’ll leave the commentary to me, and Blaine, you will focus. Did I make myself clear?”

Silence, before Chandler gave a meek “Yes.”

Blaine just nodded.

“And someone get the cane from act one,” Jesse said. “We need a stand-in until we get this fixed.”

“Should be in storage one,” Jolene said. “I’ve got it.”

“How about Blaine gets it, seeing how he broke it?” Chandler said.

“Fine,” Blaine huffed. It actually sounded like a good idea, if only to get out of the auditorium for a while. If he stayed any longer around Chandler, he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t lose it. Once he stepped out of the auditory, he leaned against the wall for a moment. He looked down the corridor, hoping to spot Sebastian, but there was no trace of him. Some of the other cast members filed out, probably trying to sneak a smoke break. Blaine closed his eyes, trying to ignore the looks of pity.

“What, you think the cane will walk into your hands?”

Chandler, _again_. Well, maybe Sebastian was onto something there.

“Leave me alone,” Blaine said. There was a snort, but it didn’t matter. Blaine waited a moment until he had walked on, before he snapped his eyes open and started walking. He took a flight of stairs down to the basements where they kept most of the props in small storage rooms. One was right at the bottom of the stairs. He pulled the door open and walked inside.

The cane should be in a stand right by the door, but he couldn’t spot it. Before he could look around, the door fell shut behind him, shutting out all but a sliver of light. With a sigh, he let his hand wander over the wall, looking for the light switch until he finally found it. After a click, the room was filled with a dim light. Blaine turned back – and screamed.

A person, hanging from the ceiling, motionless and still.

His back hit the door, as he took in the figure in front of him. As he stared at it, he could see more details. Not a person. A mannequin. Clad in one of his costumes, a dark, gelled-down wig on its head, and a rope around its neck. Pinned on his chest, there was a piece of paper a single word in crude letters.

 _Failure_.

Cold. Everything seemed to be freezing, and Blaine couldn’t tear his eyes from the… thing. It was too easy to see the similarities… He tried to get further away, but the door was solid and unforgiving against his back. Frantically, his hand grabbed for the handle, missing it twice before he finally had the metal inside his hand. He pushed it down, pushed against the door to open it…

It didn’t move.

Blaine gasped for breath, trying to push harder, but it wouldn’t budge. And all the time, the mannequin was staring at him out of empty eyes, not even moving, just… there. He turned, pushing frantically against the handle, against the door, trying to get away. It almost sounded like someone was here, someone was breathing… or was that him? He had to get away, he couldn’t… he didn’t even know. But he couldn’t stay here. God, he would die, wouldn’t he? Die over a damn play that sucked every bit of life out of him, leaving him useless, and dried out, and scared and…

Dark spots appeared around the edges of his vision. His heart was racing, pounding in his ears. His hands were tingling, so strongly that he could hardly feel the handle under his fingers, he was sobbing, he had to get away from that thing, and what it meant, and…

“Blaine?!”

Muffled through the door, Sebastian’s voice pierced through the fog. Blaine pushed against the door again, tried to push through, get away.

“Step back! I’m getting you out, just step back!”

It didn’t make sense. Back was that thing, he couldn’t step back. He needed to get away.

Cursing from outside, and then, for a second he could feel the door give before it was pushed back.

Another sob, as Blaine tried to push against it, and then, the door flew open. Blaine fell forward, and then there were arms around him, pulling him out and away from the nightmare.

Blaine gulped for air, even as Sebastian’s arms closed around him. He could hear other voices, someone swearing – Jesse?

“What the fuck is that?” Sebastian asked.

“Okay, this is sick,” Jesse said.

Blaine turned his head, watched as Jesse stepped into the door and looked at the mannequin.

“Failure”, he read, shuddering.

“Call Malcolm,” Sebastian said. “Someone needs to look at this. And what the hell were you thinking sending him here alone? Don’t you see what could have happened to him?”

“Nobody here needs orders from a dance instructor! And what is this even?”

Blaine’s skin crawled as he heard Chandler’s voice. He tried to ignore it, like he tried to ignore that thing in the room, tried to focus on breathing, and on the weight of Sebastian’s arms around him.

“Looks like a stalker’s calling card to me,” Jesse muttered.

Blaine turned again, staring at them, and at the mannequin, still hanging there. In the corner of his eye he noticed a wedge, that must have been stuck against the door. He felt sick, a wave of nausea rushing over him. It didn’t get better as he looked at the other men. Jesse looked bewildered, Chandler disgusted. Neither seemed particularly impressed. It felt so strange, how little they seemed to care, when to Blaine it was like the ground under his feet had disappeared. He didn’t even dare to look at Sebastian, too scared of what he would see.

Just a moment ago, he’d been terrified of death. And now? Was it all a joke? It couldn’t be, it had to be a setup, but how the hell was he supposed to explain that without sounding hysterical? And fine, he probably was, but… His hands were still shaking, still tingling, like all it would take was just a little push, just a bit of pressure…

“Just look at it,” Chandler sneered. “Nobody is _that_ melodramatic. I bet he did it himself, just to get more attention.”

_He could almost hear the snap_

For the split of a second, the world turned red. All the fear from a moment before turned into hot, gleaming rage. The next thing Blaine knew, Chandler was on the floor, beneath him, and pain exploded from his knuckles as it collided with Chandler’s face, again, another time, barely even realizing it, and then –

Pressure, pain, as an arm shot around him, pulling him back with surprising force. Blaine tried to struggle, to free himself, and then he was pulled against a solid form, in his ears a voice, sharp, commanding,

“Stop!”

Blaine froze, staring at the scene in front of him. Chandler, on the floor, his eyes wide with shock even as red dripped from his split lip. Jesse, wide-eyed, looking as if Blaine had transformed into a monster right in front of his eyes. And behind them, hanging from the ceiling, that thing, looking like him.

 _Failure_.

“I… I’m sorry,” Blaine said, his voice breaking. “I don’t know what…” he stopped, shaking. It was like an out-of-body experience. His skin was cold, goose-bumps all over, it was like his arms and legs weren’t even part of his body anymore.

“He deserves better than you.” Chandler was glaring at him, and for a moment, strange as it seemed, Blaine thought he could see a sense of triumph in there.

“Call Malcolm,” Sebastian repeated, his voice breathing over Blaine’s skin, too warm, strange. “Don’t let anyone touch anything. I’ll take care of him.”

Blaine closed his eyes, trying with all his might not to cry. Sebastian’s hold around him loosened, enough for him to move, and then he was pulled away. He knew they were walking through the theater, but apart from that, not much registered. There was a rushing in is ears. The floor underneath his feet felt strange, as fi he could sink right through it. It was unreal, like he wasn’t even inside his body anymore. Like one tiny noise could shatter him where he stood. Like a gust of wind could blow him away, if it wasn’t for Sebastian’s arm around his waist, leading him forward. In the corner of his eye, he noticed red covering his knuckles, and another shudder ran through him.

Blaine only noticed where they went when they stood in front of his dressing room. Sebastian pushed him inside and closed the door behind him.

“Is that how it’s going to be?” Sebastian asked. “I turn my back for five minutes and you traipse off into some dark basement?” It was probably meant to be light-hearted, but there was obvious tension in his voice.

Blaine didn’t know how to answer. He stood in front of the mirror, staring at himself. The make-up smudged by tears, his skin underneath pale, the crimson of blood on his right hand. He blinked, and for a moment, he was somewhere else entirely, crumpled up in the remains of a car, pain soaring through him, crimson on his knuckles as he turned to his right, Rachel, all that blood…

“Blaine.”

Sebastian’s voice pierced through the fog of his mind, and he blinked, back in reality, back in the now. In the mirror, he could see Sebastian stepping up behind him, concerned, almost fearful. Desperation filled Blaine, and he wished Sebastian would stay away, as if one touch could be enough to make him shatter.

“Talk to me,” Sebastian said.

Blaine clenched his eyes shut, trying to ignore it all, if only for a moment, and… he couldn’t. What was even the point? This wasn’t worth it, he was destroying his life, he was going to die here, and who cared?

Sebastian took his hand.

Blaine’s eyes shot open.

Sebastian was standing behind him. Their eyes met in the mirror, and as Blaine turned his head, just slightly, he could see them in the three-panel mirror, reflected again and again.

He exhaled.

Slowly, his hand closed around Sebastian’s. Warm. Solid.

Real.

He looked at them in the mirrors, they went on and on, into infinity. Enough of them to fill the world. There was silence around them, apart from the beat of his pulse, their breathing – Sebastian’s soft, barely audible, contrasted by his own, harsh, fast, but slowly, oh so slowly calming down. Sebastian’s thumb stroked over his skin.

“It’s okay,” Sebastian muttered. “You’re safe.”

Safe.

Inch by inch, Blaine raised their hands, still intertwined, and let them rest above his heart. He stared at their reflection, where their hands met, and then up at their faces.

Sebastian’s head was lowered, watching him. There was something almost electric in the air, like a lightning bolt just waiting to discharge. And still, Sebastian was there, maybe the only real thing in the universe. After just a split second of hesitation, Blaine turned on his axis. Sebastian’s left hand fell to his waist. Warm. Firm.

He looked up. Sebastian’s eyes a sea of green, drawing him in to drown.

“Blaine?”

_Sometimes all it takes is a little push_

Really, it was harder not to follow the gravity, not to surge up and latch onto Sebastian, kissing him like he had any right to.

For a second, it felt like falling. Like he made a mistake, stepping into an abyss. Just one second of hesitation, unspoken words hanging between them, _are you sure_ , or maybe _what are you_ doing, and then Sebastian was kissing him back. He was pushed back against the table, and then he was lifted up, sat down on the surface, and Sebastian was still there, their lips never breaking apart. The cold glass of the mirror pressed against his back, as Sebastian stepped between his legs, right there. Blaine gasped into his mouth, allowing him access. Sebastian’s hands roamed over his back, finding their way under his shirt.

Somewhere in his head, there was an inferno, alarm sirens going off, deafening every thought, but he didn’t care. None of it mattered, only Sebastian, warm and solid, and a reminder of feeling _alive_.

As they were kissing, he could feel Sebastian move against him. He groaned feeling the pressure of the other man, hard against his groin, and suddenly even that wasn’t enough. Ignoring the alarms in his own head, Blaine let his hands drop from Sebastian’s back, and went to his belt. Sebastian moaned into his mouth as Blaine unbuckled it, before moving to unbuttoning and unzipping his pants.

He was getting hard himself, and, fuck, he knew this wasn’t allowed, not anyone, especially not Sebastian, but he didn’t care. It was all that made sense now. He had wanted this, had pretended not to want it for far too long. Now, as his sanity seemed to be falling apart under his feet, it might be the only thing holding him together.

“Fuck, Blaine…”

Just hearing his name, and from Sebastian, his voice rougher than he’d ever heard… Yeah, okay, it was thrumming through him with his pulse, pounding, _alive_ … As Sebastian was grabbing him through the thin fabric of his pants, Blaine gasped, pushing into his hand.

“Easy,” Sebastian muttered against his ear. “I’ve got you.”

Blaine nodded, trying to calm down, but it was futile from the start with Sebastian pushing down the fabricc, and then Sebastian’s hand was on him, just on the edge of too rough, but there, and warm, and fuck…

“Like that?” Sebastian breathed into his ear, and Blaine could only throw his head back against the mirror and nod, _yes_ , anything…

“Come on,” Sebastian said, his breath warm and tingling against the shell of Blaine’s ear.

The next thing he knew, Sebastian was holding the both of them in his hand and stared to stroke. Blaine’s eyes fluttered shut. Sebastian was breathing against his ear, shallow, and hurried, and he felt his own breathing in synch.

“Please,” he whispered, and, “Sebastian.”

“Close,” Sebastian breathed, and Blaine wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question, but he found himself answering, gasping, _yes_ , and _don’t stop_.

The movement of Sebastian’s hand was getting erratic, and yeah, he knew he was getting close. He didn’t know how, but somehow he found enough control over his hand to join Sebastian, their fingers intertwining as they moved up and down, and then…

The world disappeared into white, as he came. The mirror cold against his back, Sebastian in front of him, around him, warm, and then, groaning his name…

It took him a while until reality came back into focus. Sebastian’s forehead was leaning against his, his breath fanning over Blaine’s face. He raised his head slightly, and then they were kissing – slowly, lazily, as they were still coming down from the former high. Sebastian’s hand had fallen to his waist, warm, grounding.

The sirens in his head were still ringing, although lower than before. In some corner of his mind he knew he messed up, that he’d done something he couldn’t take back, possibly ruined everything. But what did that matter, when his breathing was slowly coming down, when he could feel Sebastian against him, grounding him? What did anything matter when the fear and self-loathing finally, even if only for a short while, had shut up and just let him breathe?

He turned his head, and in the mirror, he could see Sebastian, holding him reflected into infinity, watching him with an expression that was just a bit too soft, a bit too fond. Too much for Blaine to handle. But right now, too tired for a real thought, he felt like he could accept it.

He turned his head, looking up at Sebastian, meeting his eye.

“Are you okay?” Sebastian asked.

Blaine nodded. For now, it was true. Soon enough, reality would catch up with him. He could already see it. Reality, with its fear, and guilt, and self-hatred.

Right now, breathing in Sebastian, he could tell himself it didn’t matter. It was fine.

For now.


	7. There Is No Way Of Turning The Tide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Next chapter will be soon, and the story will probably also be finished soon.  
> Also me: ...oh crap, it's literally been a month.   
> Also me: This is a pretty good wordcount for a chapter. ...wait, I'm like only halfway through what I planned to put into this one.
> 
> In my defence, Seblaine week fell into that month. Though mostly, I feel like I sometimes need breaks from Blaine's perspective of angst. And just so you're warned, this is literally peak Blaine angst, at least for this fic. Also the chapter in which Sebastian says the truest thing in the whole story. 
> 
> Anyway, we're getting closer to the finale. Two more chapters, and possibly an epilogue.

* * *

All through the car ride, Blaine felt weightless, like the seat belt was the only thing keeping him from floating away, or maybe dissolving. He closed his eyes, tried to remember, just a moment (a lifetime) ago, how just for a moment under Sebastian’s hand he’d felt more alive than in years. But the memory already left a bitter taste in his mouth, made his stomach turn with guilt over what he’d done. It was almost painful, the contrast between feeling so much in one moment, and the complete numbness that had overtaken him. He couldn’t think about it. If he thought about it too much, he would not be able to go on, to walk out of this car, into his apartment, to his husband and on stage. If he thought about it too much, it would all be over.

Sebastian was silent, as if he knew that anything he said would make things worse. He’d been surprisingly gentle as he’d cleaned up Blaine’s hands, dabbed away the blood with gauze. It had been less awkward than it could have been. Blaine wasn’t sure he deserved this tenderness. He just didn’t have enough strength to protest it. He was glad that he didn’t have to brave the subways, that he didn’t even have to ask Sebastian to take him home.

As strange as this car ride felt, Blaine dreaded its end. But of course, it came faster than he was ready for. Sebastian brought the car to a halt, surprisingly close to his apartment building. They sat in silence for a while. Blaine didn’t dare to meet his eye. He could almost feel Sebastian looking at him, wondered what he was seeing, wondered if he was going to say something. Eventually, Sebastian took his hand, squeezed it for just a second.

“Will you be okay?” he asked. It was the first thing he’d said since coming down from that high. His voice was concerned, soft in an uncharacteristic way.

“I don’t know,” Blaine said. He looked to their hands resting together in his lap, like he had a right to this, like there was nothing wrong. He couldn’t bear thinking about it. The words came rushing out of his mouth as he let go of Sebastian’s hand and opened the seat belt. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

He was out of the car without looking at Sebastian, his feet carrying him a bit further down the street and into the apartment building.

The apartment was empty, as he expected. It was better this way. He definitely had to get a grip on himself before he faced Kurt. God, how was he supposed to do that? After everything that had happened, he’d found another way to destroy him. He could hear so many words echoing in his mind, promises to never cheat again, that Sebastian meant nothing, that there was no one else, and over all of them the words they both pretended had never been spoken.

_Your fault, your fault, your fault…_

As if on autopilot, he walked into the bathroom, discarding the costume he was still wearing. He stepped into the shower, not even noticing how the water went from ice-cold to scolding hot, and back again.

He’d cheated on his husband, right when they were about to launch their last shot, the Hail Mary pass. Sink or swim, as a team. A team he betrayed.

He started scrubbing his skin with soap, trying to clean off that feeling, of being wrong, of being a traitor, but as he did, it almost felt like scrubbing Sebastian off his skin, and that was even worse. He sank down against the tiles, water pelting down on him, to the point that he didn’t realize he was crying until the first sob tore through him.

It all came down to him. If he could just disappear from their lives, they’d all be better off. If he could just take himself out of their history… Rachel’s pain, that look on Sebastian’s face, too much tenderness, too much emotion that Blaine would never deserve, and Kurt… Kurt and the life he could have led.

They’d all be better off. He just wasn’t strong enough to let go…

Later, he wouldn’t have been able to reconstruct how he managed to put himself together. How he managed to get up, put on comfortable clothes, busy himself with making dinner. But by the time Kurt came home in the evening, he managed to almost act normal. The guilt wasn’t clear on his face, but carefully hidden inside his heart. The tears were washed off. His knuckles were raw, the only obvious evidence of what a bizarre turn the day had taken.

Dinner had been mostly silent, Kurt telling him about how the meeting at the bank had gone – bad, as expected. The incident at the theater was barely mentioned, but he could see a flash of guilt in Kurt’s face when he asked if Blaine was okay. Late regret for doubting the stalker’s existence, Blaine figured. He didn’t say much, expressed regret on losing it on Chandler. He couldn’t risk getting into too much detail. He’d probably lose it and just blurt out everything about Sebastian, and then…

Then what?

It was simple, in a way. Kurt had forgiven him once for cheating and made it clear that there would be no second time. More than that, he would never forgive him for Sebastian. Blaine wasn’t sure he’d want it anyway. He knew, deep down, if Kurt was done with him, he wouldn’t fight for another chance. When he realized, he was hit by a wild temptation – confess, put it all out in the open, have Kurt walk away from him in disgust to go and find happiness elsewhere, and Blaine… he’d be left behind, yes, but then again, once you hit rock bottom, the only way was up… 

Of course, it wasn’t that easy. It wouldn’t just be disgust Kurt would feel, not anger, but pain, and humiliation. Another way in which Blaine destroyed him, when he’d been trying so hard to make up for it all.

There was the show, all the money Kurt had sunk into it, and Blaine couldn’t abandon him to financial ruin.

And maybe – probably – it wouldn’t be Kurt who’d land on his feet.

Besides, Kurt had chosen once before to walk away from him, and he hadn’t been happy back then either… If only he’d stayed away, if only Blaine had been strong enough to keep saying no…

“You’re quiet,” Kurt said.

“Tired,” Blaine replied. “Today was…” He stopped himself, before he could reveal too much.

Kurt gave him a short smile. “You should sleep. You’ll need your strength for dress rehearsal tomorrow.”

Blaine nodded, but he couldn’t meet Kurt’s eye. It was true, he’d need every ounce of strength to get through dress rehearsal. To get through all of this.

Sebastian’s words echoed in his mind.

_This isn’t worth it._

He pushed them aside. He would keep going.

He had to.

* * *

Blaine still felt numb as he walked into the theater building by his husband’s side. He felt nauseated from the breakfast he’d forced down, knowing he’d need his strength for dress rehearsal. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to go through with it. Then again, he didn’t have a choice.

They were barely inside the building when Kurt took his hand, too firm to be meant as comfort. For a moment, Blaine felt confused, but when he looked up, he could see Sebastian talking to Jesse, even while his eyes were firmly on them. Blaine faltered, and for the blink of an eye he felt transported back to his dressing room, yesterday, phantom touches on his skin that he’d thought he’d washed off. He felt completely transparent, like everyone could see it.

There was definitely something Sebastian saw, as he looked just for a moment like he wanted to approach but then thought better of it. Kurt was pulling him along anyway, right to his dressing room. As they entered, Blaine felt a flash of panic, wondered if there’d be any trace of what had happened yesterday. But everything was pristine.

“Get dressed,” Kurt said, his voice a bit softer than it usually was. “I’ll see you on stage.”

Blaine nodded, and a moment later the door closed. He got dressed on autopilot, as if he was putting clothes on a mannequin. He could barely feel his own skin. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he could barely recognize himself. Just as he turned around, there was a knock. He knew who it was even before he turned around.

Sebastian stopped right at the door. He was looking at Blaine with an expression he couldn’t decipher. There was a gentleness in there, concern… But Blaine knew he didn’t deserve any of it.

“There’s something you should know,” Sebastian said.

“I have to be on stage,” Blaine said, his voice foreign as if someone else was talking. “Dress rehearsal is about to start.”

“It can wait,” Sebastian said.

Blaine looked to the floor, unable to meet his eye. “It literally can’t,” he replied.

He could hear Sebastian stepping closer, close enough to touch him. “We need to talk, Blaine.”

Blaine found himself shaking his head. “I can’t,” he said. “Not now. Please, I…. I have to get through dress rehearsal somehow. Can we not…?”

Sebastian’s hand on his arm might as well have been burning. A rush of longing surged through Blaine with a surprising ferocity. He closed his eyes, and for a moment he wished things could be easy. That there was no show, no obligations, just that touch. And what did it matter now? He’d already done the unforgivable, he couldn’t damn himself any further.

“Please,” he whispered, and he had no idea anymore what he was asking for.

The door flew open. Blaine stumbled backwards, away from Sebastian. Even as he put on another mask, one of careful neutrality, he knew it was too late.

Rachel was standing in the door. She stopped, her eyes darting between the both of them. He felt frozen under her gaze. She shot a suspicious look to Sebastian before turning back to Blaine.

“They’re about to start,” she said. “Come on, we should get to the stage.”

“Yeah, of course,” Blaine said. He quickly stepped towards her, hoping against hope that she hadn’t noticed anything. He had no illusions, though.

Rachel linked arms with him, and dragged him down the corridor, away from the room and Sebastian. Blaine could hear him follow, but he couldn’t bring himself to look back. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Rachel, either, not sure if he could bear to see the judgement in her face. A new jolt of fear down his spine went down his spine.

Oh god, he was going to lose Rachel, too…

But before he could focus more on this thought, Rachel leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” she asked. “You look really pale.”

“It’ll be fine,” Blaine replied. “Besides, we can’t really postpone dress rehearsal.”

If Rachel wanted to say something in reply, she changed her mind. Instead, she led him to the stage in silence.

Everyone was already there, just waiting for him. Jesse and Kurt were sitting in the first row, Chandler beside them with his bruised face. Blaine flinched looking at him.

“Ignore him,” Rachel muttered, “from all Jesse told me he deserved that.”

Blaine’s eyes shifted towards her, and the serious expression on her face. When they reached the stage, Rachel stopped and kissed his cheek. “Go get them,” she said with a smile that was probably supposed to be encouraging, but in the end was just as unsure as he felt.

When he walked up on stage, it felt as if he was walking towards his execution. He risked a look into the auditorium. Rachel sat beside Jesse, looking at him expectantly. Kurt seemed impatient, waiting for them to begin. Chandler was looking at him with transparent loathing. Sebastian had taken a place in the third row, but Blaine didn’t allow himself to focus long enough to interpret his expression.

“You okay?” one of the other actors said.

Blaine took a deep breath, and somehow, he managed to put on a show face.

“I’m great,” he said, “let’s do this.”

* * *

The best thing he could say about dress rehearsal was probably that it hadn’t all been his fault. Oh, and nothing had broken.

Apart from that…

Not everything had gone wrong. The choreography for once had not been the problem apart from a few fumbles that only a handful of people would have noticed. His singing… well, it hadn’t been genuinely bad, but nothing that would get them any accolades. Timing had been a disaster all through the rehearsal. He’d missed cues, gotten the verses mixed up, forgotten props… the group numbers had lacked energy, the actors playing the romantic leads seemed to hate each other today, and everything had just seemed so… joyless.

Blaine didn’t know how long he’d been sitting here in his dressing room, staring at the mirror even after changing back into more comfortable clothes.

This had been a disaster. He knew, of course, that an awful dress rehearsal was supposed to be an omen for an amazing opening night. He just had no idea how that could be feasible.

His gaze fell to his right hand, the traces of his meltdown still clearly visible.

If they couldn’t make the show work, it would all have been for nothing. All the fear, the exhaustion, every drop of sweat and tears and now blood, for nothing. Risking his life, for nothing. They’d be worse off than before.

The door opened, not even a knock as a warning. Blaine looked up into the mirror to see Sebastian’s reflection. Something froze inside him, as he remembered that they still hadn’t talked. But what was he supposed to say? He didn’t even have the energy to look at himself, how was he supposed to face Sebastian?

For a moment, neither of them moved as they studied each other’s reflection. Blaine felt his pulse speed up as he waited for the confrontation that was sure to come. He couldn’t read Sebastian’s face, even as it looked like he was working through something.

“Can we talk?” Sebastian asked eventually.

Blaine sighed and bowed his head down, breaking the eye contact they held via the mirror. “There’s not really anything to talk about,” he said, his voice still sounding foreign to him. “Yesterday… was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened.” It sounded like a door falling shut.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said.

It was probably the last thing Blaine would have expected. Confused, he turned around.

“I’m not saying it wasn’t good,” Sebastian said, a wry smile forming on his face, “or that I hadn’t hoped for something like that basically since we met. But I know you weren’t okay, or really in your right mind, and I should have stopped it. The truth is, when I came back to the auditorium, and you were gone, I was… terrified. All I could think of was what might have happened to you. When we found you in that storage, I was relieved as hell. So, my judgment was probably not the best, either. Still, I knew what a mess you were at that moment, and now I’ve just given you one more thing you undoubtedly use to punish yourself. So… I’m sorry.”

Blaine felt like he was standing under a magnifying glass, and still, now that Sebastian’s eyes were on him, with so much sincerity, he couldn’t look away again.

“I knew what I was doing,” he said softly, “I started it. Besides, you’re not the one who’s married.” He wouldn’t push the guilt over his own actions on Sebastian, even if that would make everything so much easier.

Sebastian shrugged, although the gesture didn’t convey any of the carelessness he probably intended. “Well, we both know it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been freshly traumatized, so…”

“Don’t,” Blaine said. “It shouldn’t have happened. But you… don’t turn it into something it wasn’t. You didn’t take advantage of me.”

Sebastian frowned, and with a lump in his throat, Blaine understood that he didn’t believe him.

Blaine sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s all just such a mess,” he said. “I’m sorry I ever dragged you into this. But I keep ruining it. I can’t even do the show. I should have known, I should have made them find someone else, but it’s too late now. I’m just going to let them all down, and Kurt-“

“Screw him.”

Blaine looked at him in confusion, taken aback by the harshness in Sebastian’s voice. Of course, they disliked each other. But this was more than just animosity.

“I’m serious,” Sebastian continued. “Why the hell are you still doing this? Look at yourself, Blaine. You’re bleeding out. You’re risking your life, and your health – let’s not even get started on your mental state – and all for what? For him? Wake up! This show is fine, but there’s no way it will be the bombshell he expects. He’s asking the stars from you and you’re literally destroying yourself because you believe it’s actually possible. It’s not, Blaine. You’re killing yourself over nothing. He does not care about you.”

“Of course he cares,” Blaine said, but even he had to admit his voice lacked conviction.

“Then why isn’t he here right now?” Sebastian shot back. “Not to mention, he’s basically the main suspect.”

“What?”

“The note paper,” Sebastian said, “we managed to analyze it. Now, the writing samples don’t help much – the writing is disguised in all of them. But it’s all on the same paper, with the same ink. So, either they are all from the same person, or your stalker has free access to your husband’s supplies.”

Blaine faltered, but then he took a deep breath and forced himself to think for just a moment. “It’s not him,” he said, surprised at how calm he sounded, “and don’t even try to tell me you believe that for one second. If you really thought it was him, you would not have taken me home yesterday. You would have told me and tried to set me up somewhere else until you were sure.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened in surprise, and maybe a bit of hope too. “True,” he admitted. “I don’t believe it’s him. The problem is, Malcolm does.”

“Who?” Blaine asked.

Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He’s in charge of the case right now,” he said. “Gray left for DC last week on another case. Something… delicate, to put it lightly. Now, Malcolm is good at what he does, but he and I disagree on a few points. Mostly, he’s convinced that Kurt is responsible.”

Blaine shook his head. “I told you, there is no life insurance or anything.”

“Maybe,” Sebastian said, “but you can’t ignore that it would create a lot of publicity – stalking, mysterious notes, the lead actor in peril… The show is being anticipated, and that’s definitely part of the buzz out there. I tried to tell him it’s not likely, but… well, he thinks I’m too emotionally invested to make a neutral call.” He stopped, before shaking his head with a sigh. “To be fair, he does have a point there. Still, it wouldn’t kill him to pay more attention to my theories.”

“What is your theory?” Blaine asked.

“My money’s on Chandler,” Sebastian said. “He’s jealous of you, he keeps tearing you down. Not exactly subtle, sure, but with your understudy out of the running, he makes the most sense. Malcolm isn’t convinced. All I managed to get was a background check. No criminal record, no registered gun… not that that means much, anyway…”

Blaine hesitated. For a moment, he remembered Chandler’s face from the day before, malicious, gleeful, and then, despite shock and pain, almost triumphant. Yes, in that moment, he could believe it… but then he remembered the blood, how his own hand had hurt from the punches, what _he_ had done…

“He does hate me,” he said, choosing his words carefully, even as he felt his heart rate speeding up. Like he actually could calmly discuss who might want him dead. “He was a bit in love with Kurt back in high school.”

“Did they have a thing?” Sebastian asked.

“A texting thing,” Blaine said, “I don’t know if he knew about me back then. Then again, I wasn’t exactly in the position to complain about a… texting thing.” He looked down, not before catching the way Sebastian’s lips quirked upwards at the hidden admittance that yes, there had been a thing.

He tried to ignore it, as he continued. “But what you keep forgetting is, Chandler is here because of Kurt. He put money into the show, too. And while he hates me, I know that he wouldn’t want Kurt to fail. If I was…” He stopped, looking for a way to say it without feeling like he was challenging fate. “If I was out of the picture, who would be the lead?”

“Maybe he’s trying to replace you,” Sebastian suggested.

Blaine shook his head. “He’s not an actor, and he doesn’t have the voice. He couldn’t replace me if he wanted to. Even if it was about publicity… if I was unable to perform, there’d be no lead. All publicity can’t save a show if there’s nobody to perform it.”

“You really think he’s going at this completely rationally?” Sebastian asked.

Blaine shook his head. “I just believe he cares more about Kurt’s success than about my downfall,” he said.

“Yeah, well, can’t say I share your optimism,” Sebastian said. “Either way, can you… just promise me you’ll stay away from him. Don’t be alone with him, don’t go somewhere alone if he sends you, don’t even take a drink from him. I might be wrong, but until we know – just treat him as if I was right, okay?”

Blaine frowned. There was an urgency in Sebastian’s voice that set him on edge. Still, he found himself nodding. It wasn’t such a big sacrifice anyway. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll stay away from him.” He sighed. “Not that I have a better theory anyway. Or any better strategy to stay safe.”

“Actually, that’s not true.”

To his surprise, Sebastian took a step towards him, as if on instinct, as if he hadn’t actually meant to.

“Leave the show.”

The meaning of the words had barely pierced through Blaine’s mind before he found himself stepping back. “What?”

Maybe the words had surprised Sebastian himself, but now that they were out in the open, a new determination blossomed in his face. There was a glint in his eye, and Blaine felt a shudder running down his spine when he recognized the expression. This was Sebastian being serious.

“The truth is, I have my theories, Malcolm has his, and neither of us have enough proof to do anything with it. He can keep a trail on your husband, I can keep an eye on Chandler, we can check and re-check every prop and every piece of scenery a million times, and we could still both be wrong. Neither will keep you safe. That’s what it comes down to. You’re in danger – your _life_ is in danger, Blaine, and I know I said I would keep you safe, but the truth is, I can’t promise that. I can do everything in my power, and it might still not be enough. As long as you’re tied to this show, you’re in danger. You’re _literally_ killing yourself over this. So just… stop. Leave the show. Leave him. I’ll help you get on your feet, I’ll take care of whatever you need. I’ll do _anything_ , Blaine.”

His voice had gotten louder, more intense. Blaine had never seen him like this, so… desperate, there was no other way to put it. Sebastian was desperate, just to keep him safe. Right now, Blaine believed him. He would do anything, whatever it took, anything Blaine would ask of him right now.

He felt sick looking at Sebastian, to see so much care, fear, passion, wasted on him. Like Blaine hadn’t ruined enough people yet.

He shook his head, trying to repress the tears that had sprung to his eyes. “I can’t,” he said, pleading, hoping that Sebastian would pick up on his tone and stop, drop it, pretend this conversation never had happened. There was no chance, of course, he knew that, but he just… he couldn’t bear it. “The show will be ruined. _Kurt_ will be ruined, and I-“

“Always Kurt,” Sebastian said, almost spat out the name, “you’re killing yourself for him, why can’t you see it? You owe him _nothing_ , and you-“

“I ruined his life!”

For a second after his outburst, the room was silent, as if just for a moment, time had stopped. Blaine clapped a hand over his mouth, as if he could take back the words he just said. The last puzzle piece, the one Sebastian hadn’t been able to see. The secret he’d kept inside himself, tried to conceal from the world, from everyone, Kurt and himself, but he had known. They both had known.

“What are you talking about?” Sebastian asked eventually, like he couldn’t figure it out himself.

But what did it even matter now? He had put it out in the open, he might as well get it all out.

“It’s all my fault,” he said. “He would have been fine without me. But in the end, I ruined it all for him. Even back in college. He could have taken any opportunity, and he rejected them all, because he chose to come back to Ohio, for me. I thought it would be okay back then, that we could make it anyway. But that’s not what happened, was it?” He shook his head. “No, it didn’t happen. Instead, I took that life we were supposed to have, and I destroyed it. I wrecked it, and that car, and Rachel, and our child, and it was all over. Because I couldn’t listen, because I brought her there, Sebastian. She almost died, we lost our daughter … and I? It was all my fault, but I’m the one who walked away from it with just a wonky leg. Everything we had was gone. And I tried to make it up to him. I tried to fix it somehow. But it couldn’t be fixed. He’s never going to have a child, he’s not going to have a career, all his dreams are gone, and I’m the one who caused it. I was supposed to make it up to him, and I couldn’t even do that. I couldn’t even be a good husband, I can’t give him comfort, I couldn’t even stay faithful to him. And now this show is all he has left. I just… I can’t ruin this too, just like everything else.”

There was no point in trying to hold back the tears. He forced himself to keep his eyes on Sebastian, to show him that he was serious, begging for him to understand, to finally see him for what he was.

A failure.

Sebastian took one more step, and slowly, touched his hand onto Blaine’s cheek. For a moment, he seemed to be looking for words, and Blaine just wanted him to stop, wanted to tell him it was okay, and just to leave while he still could. Before Blaine managed to drag him down, too.

“Blaine…” Sebastian looked at him with an expression just as gentle as the touch of his hand. “You need help. All of this… how long have you been carrying this around? Since the accident?”

Blaine bit his lip. “Does it matter?”

“It’s not your fault,” Sebastian said, an urgency in his voice as if he needed Blaine to believe it. As if there was a way he could. “It’s in your head. You think he blames you? Or Rachel does?”

Blaine closed his eyes, a memory echoing in his mind, years old, distorted by alcohol, _your fault_ …

“You need help,” Sebastian said. “You’ve kept that with you for so long… it’s all become so twisted inside your head… You need to be in therapy. You probably need to be on medication.”

Blaine shook his head, wanted to protest that they couldn’t afford either. But he stopped himself. That wasn’t the point. Not that Sebastian seemed to have understand his point.

“What will it take for you to understand that I’m not worth it?” Blaine asked. Even as he spoke the words, he felt a selfish surge of want, wished that Sebastian never would.

“Here’s what I understand,” Sebastian said. “I saw one person I cared about die. You will not be the second.” He moved the hand on his cheek, softly stroking over the skin, gathering the moisture. “But I also understand something else. Whatever I say… you’re not ready to listen.”

Blaine looked up, blinking against his tears in confusion.

Sebastian looked at him, a sad smile on his face. But there was no hint of disappointment, or disgust.

“I get it,” Sebastian said, “finally. I think I know what I have to do.”

Blaine gasped, fear clutching his heart. “Don’t tell him,” he whispered.

“Oh Blaine,” Sebastian muttered. “I promise, I won’t.” He hesitated, then slowly, he placed a single, impossibly tender kiss onto Blaine’s forehead. A heartbeat later, he stepped away and walked out of the room.

Blaine stared at the door, at where he had just disappeared. He felt empty, and numb, as if everything inside him had broken out, leaving him nothing more than a shell. For a moment, when he closed his eyes, he could imagine he could just disappear. Fade away.

But when he opened his eyes, nothing had changed. He was still there, still a mess.

And alone.


	8. Interlude - One Day More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was halfway through the next chapter, when Monsieur suddenly decided he needs to share his view of things. In the end, it turned out very stream-of-consciousness. Ah well.  
> Though maybe we can all use a break from the angst that is Blaine's mind.

* * *

_Interlude – One Day More_

Sebastian woke once again way before the alarm went off. Years in law enforcement had left their traces, not only on his sleep patterns. Outside, there was just a sliver of dawn across the sky. It would be easy to close his eyes again, drift off a bit more. But he had too little time, and too many questions he still couldn’t answer.

One day more until opening night, and whatever it would bring. Tomorrow night, Blaine would step on that stage, and… _something_ would happen. He could feel it in his bones, in the lump in his throat the moment he thought about the play. He still had no evidence on who was behind it, couldn’t prove his theories, and his last-ditch attempt to convince Blaine to leave had failed. Sure, it could have gone worse – he’d half expected Blaine would kick him out of the room, if not the building. Maybe he just didn’t have enough strength to do it.

As he stepped into the shower, he felt an old familiar wish rush in, to just turn back time. All the way back to high school, before Blaine was broken, when he maybe could have been saved. Back when he himself had been callous and careless, without the maturity loss had brought. Being nice had sucked, but maturity might just be the worst thing he ever acquired. If he still were that careless teenager, he could allow himself a moment basking in the satisfaction of finally getting what he wanted since he first saw Blaine leaning against that door frame at Dalton, and then he could put it aside and just focus on his job.

Then again, with Blaine, it had really never been that easy, even then.

Besides, if he could go back in time, there were a lot of other things he could do. Never throw that slushie. Stop the damn proposal. Never ever let Blaine get into that car.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He’d considered reaching out to Blaine. After starting his work as a profiler. After Renard’s death. When he’d been wallowing back in Paris, when he’d considered coming back to America. He’d stopped himself every time. He’d always been convinced, that Blaine lived his fairy tale happy end – not that he’d really expected Kurt Hummel had the ability or even inclination to make him happy, but hey, if it was what Blaine wanted… Anyway, he’d been sure that Blaine had his life in order, and what could Sebastian possibly tell him that held any relevance? Even when he moved to New York, he’d been hesitant to reach out. What good would it do anyway, to either of them?

So, Sebastian had done what he always did, pretended to shrug things off, like the fact that he still could see and feel and _smell_ the blood in his nightmares… He threw himself into work, to help Gray catch some of the most disgusting people he ever could have imagined, and making sure that a lot more families weren’t torn apart. Not another little Angelique asking when her papa would come home. Never again.

His work didn’t exactly make him feel better, but it was _something_. He really thought he was doing good things. And now? All those good things probably only meant that he’d get a front row seat to Blaine’s death.

He turned down the water temperature, as if a torrent of ice could drown out the cold fear running through him.

That’s what he got for hanging around all those former McKinley students. Too much melodrama.

Still, the thought kept nagging inside his mind. By the time he was in the kitchen making coffee, dressed in dark jeans and a black turtleneck, his thoughts had run into a million different directions. Talking to Malcolm wouldn’t get him any further. Investigating Chandler had brought nothing so far, and he doubted there’d be much. The only solid leads they had were the note paper, which clearly came from Kurt’s office. The mannequin might have given them more clues, but by the time Malcolm’s team had arrived, Jesse and Chandler had taken the damn thing down. And sure, looking back it was obvious to Sebastian that he should have stayed back to make sure everything would be taken care of. But Blaine had needed him…

Well, seeing how that turned out, he _really_ should have stayed back.

Maybe Malcolm had a point when he said Sebastian was too close to the case. The smart thing would probably be to step back, have someone impartial come in. But just thinking of that was followed by the memory of Blaine clinging to him in pure despair, and there was one thing Sebastian understood completely. Someone else might come in to protect Blaine, but nobody would take care of him. Gray would not be impressed when he returned. Malcolm had already said this might have put Sebastian’s job at risk.

Well, if that was the case anyway, then maybe he should go all in. Not much to lose, right? Maybe he should kidnap Blaine, lock him up in his apartment until he either found out who the stalker was or made him see reason.

Yes, perfect plan. He shook his head. He really needed more coffee.

It wouldn’t help, anyway. Again, he thought of the look on Blaine’s face. How hollow he’d looked. Even without the stalker, Sebastian could watch him die right before his eyes. Yesterday, it had been so obvious, like it had been in front of him the whole time. He didn’t understand how he didn’t see it before.

There were two things wearing Blaine down. There was the stalker, yes, the constant fear that Sebastian had started to share. But beyond that, more sinister and far more destructive, was the guilt, the self-loathing sprouting through him like cancer, slowly draining him until there’d be nothing left. Even if Sebastian found and stopped the stalker, it wouldn’t save Blaine.

Not in the way that mattered. Not after that wound had festered inside him for years. Not after he became a part of that wound. And sure, he could curse himself for giving into his own moment of weakness, of relief (it wouldn’t have made a difference, though, would it? Blaine would have found a way to damn himself just for the impulse, for reaching out in the first place). He could curse Kurt Hummel for standing by and never seeing how Blaine was killing himself one bit at a time, every day for the last ten years. But it wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t save Blaine.

_He_ couldn’t save Blaine. But finally, he realized who might.

He looked at the clock as he took a sip of his coffee – too hot, too bitter, not nearly enough.

Too early. He’d probably only get one shot. He couldn’t afford to throw it away.

But even if it worked, there was still the stalker. A more immediate danger to Blaine’s life. Sebastian sighed, as he leaned his forehead against the window and looked down onto the street, by now grey in the early morning light.

So much to do, and the time was running out…

_Focus…_

Easy for the old fox to say. It had always been so much more difficult for Sebastian to actually do. Maybe he should have tried harder. Maybe then Renard would still be alive, could give him actual advice instead of the faint murmurings of his memory.

When he closed his eyes, he could still smell the blood. But in his mind, he saw Blaine lying there in the corridor, not his mentor; hazel eyes, not ice grey ones, slightly wide as if he was only mildly surprised, as the blood oozed from the bullet wound in his chest.

No.

Sebastian opened his eyes, shook his head. He would not let that happen.

He once more read through the financial statements they had collected of Chandler as well as his brothers. The investment in the show was substantial, even if not enough to actually endanger the family fortune. Then again, from what their contact at the bank had said, there were definitely limits to the amount of money Chandler could move on his own. He might as well have invested all he himself owned. Money that would be lost if the lead suddenly was unable to perform.

He sent another mail to his contact, checking if there was anything else he might be willing to share. But he didn’t get his hopes up. So far, it hadn’t been successful. Why should it be different now?

What else?

Wasn’t he supposed to be smarter than this? It had always been his thing, figuring out the motive, tracing it back to the suspects. Clever Sebastian Smythe, perfect star student to the old fox Renard. But not clever enough to realize he wasn’t the first in this position. Not clever enough to see how hard his predecessor took his own fall versus Sebastian’s rise – hard enough to want revenge. Not clever enough to see how serious it was, until his mentor was lying on the floor in front of him, blood oozing from his chest.

And now? Clever enough to figure out who it was – probably, but he was very certain – but not clever enough to prove it. Not clever enough to keep Blaine safe. Not clever enough to make him walk away.

An email notification popped up. One of his coworkers had sent him a transcript of the understudy’s first questioning. Sebastian went over it, but there wasn’t much in there. Poor guy was still mostly out of it, they were probably lucky they managed to talk to him at all.

_“He said I’m not good enough to step up… when Blaine snaps… and then they’re left with me, which is worse than nothing…”_

Sebastian frowned and scanned the transcript again. Leo hadn’t given them any names. He tested the words out in Chandler’s voice and figured it could come close. Kurt? Well, it didn’t sound completely out of character. He still wasn’t convinced of Malcolm’s theory. Still, there was no evidence that this mysterious “he” was the same person that made Blaine’s life hell.

But what if it was the same person? Who would actively try to drive away both the lead and his understudy? Who could win something from the production failing?

Again, he tried to reconcile his theory with what he saw. Blaine had been convinced Chandler wouldn’t be able to play the part. Sebastian had managed to find some old videos of Candler singing, and he had to agree with Blaine’s assessment. There was no way Chandler could pull off the role. The only question was if he knew that.

What if he was wrong? What if someone had a grudge against Blaine, or Kurt, or both? But there were no enemies they found out about. They’d even checked with exes, but both of them seemed to have moved on completely…

He sent his coworker a quick thanks and an inquiry on the further preparations for tomorrow night. He’d join the crew later at the theater, going through every single prop, checking for further tampering.

Later.

First, he had to try once more to have Blaine taken care of.

He checked his watch again. A bit early, but if he included the time it would take to get there, it would probably end up socially acceptable.

During the drive, his thoughts kept wandering to Blaine. Could he ever have imagined, back then when the Warblers wouldn’t shut up about him, that he’d end up so broken and scarred? Back then, he could have outshone the sun. Now, the light was close to extinguished.

Rachel had been the one who brought them in. Sebastian remembered the day she’d sat in Gray’s office, shyer than he’d ever even imagined she could be, and close to tears as she explained the stalking. He’d known she was serious, but he hadn’t quite grasped the severity of the situation until she told them it was about Blaine. Hell, even then he hadn’t quite understood it, maybe not until yesterday.

But he certainly wouldn’t forget the moment he’d finally seen Blaine again, talked to him for the first time since his proposal way back. Blaine had started dancing already, focused completely. Sebastian had stopped at the door and just watched him. He’d seen him similar to this once, years ago. Right after McKinley’s production of West Side Story, he had stayed back, hoping to congratulate him in private. But Blaine had stayed on stage, repeating one missed step again and again, frustration rising within him. Back then, Sebastian had missed his chance to speak up, talk to Blaine before his harpy of a boyfriend showed up. But back then, Blaine hadn’t looked as desperate, or hopeless. This time, there was no joy in his movements.

This time, Sebastian had stepped up.

It had been worth it, he was still convinced of it. Even if he really fucked up, he thought overall he was a positive influence. A counterbalance to almost everyone in Blaine’s life invalidating his fear. Not nearly enough, but at least it was something.

Sebastian parked his car and allowed himself a moment to take a deep breath, before getting out and walking up to the building. This was it, then. If this failed to save Blaine, he wasn’t sure what else he could do. One shot, and he really hoped he wouldn’t mess it up.

After ringing the bell, he had to wait a few moments. Then, finally, the door opened, and he was faced with, possibly, his last hope. She was still in a bath robe, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail, and she looked at him with a bit of confusion.

Sebastian took another deep breath, before fixing her with a serious look.

“Good morning, Rachel. I think we need to talk.”


	9. Give Me The Strength To Try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, boy, this went away from me. Not content-wise, but length-wise. Over 7k, so yeah.  
> Alternate title: the one with all the crying  
> Alernate title 2: the truth hurts.  
> So yeah. There's a lot of crying in this one. Also, after this one, I might have to add a Blainchel tag. ...just kidding.

* * *

When Blaine woke up, their bedroom was filled with light. He wondered how long he’d slept, but after a moment he dismissed the thought. What did it even matter?

After the disaster that had been yesterday’s dress rehearsal, he at least had the relief of one free day. One whole day he didn’t spend at the theater, under the oppressive roof, with air that got harder to breathe with every day. He wondered if he could get away with not getting out of bed – he just wasn’t sure if he meant today or ever.

He heard noise coming from outside the room. Kurt was at home, pacing around the kitchen, and apparently, he was talking to someone.

Confused, Blaine climbed out of bed and towards their bedroom door. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, just wanted to see if there was someone else in their apartment. He stopped at the door, though, when he heard his name.

“Blaine will be fine. …I know. Yesterday was a catastrophe. But he can do better than that. He _will_ do better than that. …because it has to.”

Blaine leaned against the wall. Kurt was on the phone, apparently, although he couldn’t tell who he was talking to.

“I don’t know,” Kurt said now. “No, that’s not…” He sighed, and was silently for a moment, while whoever he was talking to spoke. Blaine didn’t hear enough through the door to discern the voice, let alone words. “I couldn’t. Not the way he can. Different range. And the choreography.” He paused, before he spoke again. “Well, you’re the only one who thinks that. It’s not like I didn’t try. But let’s face it, New York apparently doesn’t want me. Everyone wants Blaine.” Another pause. “No, I’m not biased. It’s just always been like that. Since high school. Can you imagine, we once auditioned for the same school musical, West Side Story. I went for the lead, and he only wanted a bit part. They basically begged him to be Tony. I ended up with Officer Krupke, of all roles… it’s not even a singing part.”

Blaine felt like choking. He wanted to protest, how it hadn’t been like that, that it was unfair to hold on to something so far in the past. Then again, maybe that was just the beginning of him holding Kurt back, bringing him down… Even if Kurt’s voice hadn’t sounded bitter, the words were clear enough.

“It’s not even that. It’s just… I know I won’t get my big break and be the famous Broadway actor I always wanted to be. It hasn’t happened so far, it won’t happen now. And I’ve accepted that. But it’s different with Blaine. He’s… special.”

Blaine clenched his eyes shut, the praise hitting him worse than the former bitterness, knowing it was even less deserved.

“I know you don’t see it, but it’s true. There’s something about him. He can win audiences in a way I never could. So, if this is going to happen… then it has to be him. It’s the only way.” He paused again, listening to the other person’s words. “Maybe. But it’s the only chance we have. For better or worse, right?”

Blaine had heard enough, was pretty sure that he couldn’t bear to hear anymore. Quietly, he returned to the bed and lay down, hiding his face in the pillow. Even now, after everything, Kurt put his faith in him. Because he was supposed to fix this mess that he created. Blaine wasn’t sure how he could still believe that. Blaine had let him down at every turn in the last ten years. Longer, probably, considering even West Side Story was still a sore spot. And Blaine was… tired. Exhausted. If he could just hide here, never leave this bed, maybe never wake up again… it didn’t sound so bad. But then again, that wasn’t an option. It wasn’t enough to disappear, now that he had already messed everything up. He needed to fix it.

He couldn’t.

After some time – could have been five minutes, or an hour, or however long – he could hear the door to their bedroom open and Kurt walking inside.

“Blaine?”

He turned, slowly, looking up. His husband was still at the door, looking at him with a look of concern on his face.

“Hey,” Blaine said softly, not sure what to say. For a moment he wondered if Kurt could see the turmoil and pain in his expression, or if maybe he’d become so accustomed to it that he didn’t notice a difference.

“It’s getting kind of late, do you want to get up?” Kurt asked.

Blaine nodded. “I’ll just take a shower,” he said as he peeled himself out of bed for the second time.

“And maybe afterwards, we can go over the lyrics again,” Kurt said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I noticed there were still some… insecurities, yesterday.”

Blaine’s face flushed as he thought back on the dress rehearsal in embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I honestly don’t know what happened, I…”

“It’s fine,” Kurt said, shaking his head. “That’s how it goes, right? Awful dress rehearsal, fantastic opening night. Don’t worry about it. We’ll go over it until you’re comfortable.” With that, he returned to the kitchen, maybe to discourage discussion or disagreement.

Comfortable… now that was a word he wouldn’t use in combination with their show. With a sigh, Blaine gathered his clothes and went to take a shower. Dress rehearsal had made everything worse. It had just increased the doubts he had tried to suppress, that nagging voice at the back of his mind that said he wasn’t good enough to turn the show into the breakout they needed. The concern wasn’t new, but he hadn’t been as aware of it before. Now, it was glaringly obvious just how much he could mess this up – probably _would_ mess it up.

He was numb. As he got dressed and walked into the kitchen, he wasn’t sure he felt anything beside a ball of low-key dread. When Kurt noticed him, he handed him a cup that Blaine took gratefully. Maybe coffee could ground him… but when he looked down, he noticed a clear, greenish liquid instead.

“Tea?” he asked, frowning slightly.

“Better for your voice,” Kurt replied. “Come on, let’s go over the lyrics. No singing today, though. And try to vocalize as little as possible. You need to rest your voice.”

Blaine nodded instead of answering. He knew it was good advice, not to mention that he didn’t feel like speaking anyway. And still, in spite of all that, it made him feel even more displaced, like an instrument that had to be kept in good condition.

“I figured we start with the opening number, and just go from there,” Kurt said, as he put the sheet music in front of him. With an inaudible sigh, Blaine closed his eyes and started. And then they kept going. And kept going. And then, some more.

Blaine’s head was swimming, as he tried to sort out the different versions of the lyrics in his mind. He mouthed along, never using his voice, under Kurt’s careful eye. He felt like he was under a microscope, as if there was something crawling underneath his skin. He wished he could just walk away, forget the show existed.

“Okay, that looked pretty good,” Kurt said. “What do you think? Should we go over the song again or continue with the next?”

“Next,” Blaine said as softly as he could. If only because the lyrics made his head spin.

Kurt sorted through the sheet music until he found the next song. He put them on the table between them, then hesitated. He sighed, eventually. “This isn’t actually helpful, is it?” he asked. “You know the lyrics. It’s going to be okay. It has to be okay. I just… feel like we should do something. But maybe it would actually be the smartest move to let you rest.”

Blaine closed his eyes, wondering what he should say to this, when his phone rang. Grateful for the distraction, he took it and answered immediately, not even checking who it was.

“Yeah?”

“Blaine?” Rachel’s voice on the other end sounded… strange. Cheerful, in a way that sounded completely unnatural. “Is this a good time?”

“We were going through the lyrics,” he said instead of an answer. “Is everything okay?”

She hesitated. “That’s kind of a loaded question,” she said, and there was a hitch in her voice, as if under that forced cheer, she was close to tears. Now that he thought about it, there was something stuffy about her voice, as if she’d cried before.

“Look, I… kind of need your help. Jesse is at the theater, and the twins are… really difficult right now. Could you come over? _Please_.”

Blaine frowned, not sure what to think of that. Of course, he was always ready to help her, and it wasn’t unusual for her to ask him. But it felt like there was something else going on there. There was an urgency in her request that her words didn’t convey, and it made him feel uneasy.

“What’s wrong?” Kurt asked.

“Rachel,” Blaine answered. “Sounds like she really needs help.”

“I do,” Rachel said over the phone. “Look, I get if you’re nervous, but… please, Blaine, I need you to come over. Today. As soon as you can.”

Blaine closed his eyes. Like he had it in him to decline her request. Like it was a sacrifice to spend time at a place that actually felt like home.

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll come right away.” He ended the call before she could answer.

Kurt was looking at him upset, not understanding. “Do you think this is a good idea?” he asked.

“She needs help with the twins,” Blaine said, giving the explanation he had gotten, even if he couldn’t believe this was all.

Something hardened in Kurt’s expression. “Taking care of toddlers doesn’t exactly sound like vocal rest,” he said.

“Well, maybe the rest I need is to get my head out of the show for just a few hours,” Blaine replied, surprised at the ferocity in his voice. Like he had a right to…

“Why are you being like this?” Kurt asked, the edge in his voice now very noticeable. “We’re on the same side, Blaine. I just want you to be in the best condition for tomorrow.”

“I know that,” Blaine said, backing down immediately. “But… look, Rachel needs me, and I could use a moment to breathe. To pause. Just… It sounded important.”

“I don’t think you should go,” Kurt said, slowly shaking his head.

“I know,” Blaine said. “But I think I have to.”

Kurt looked at him hurt, and Blaine hated putting that expression on his face. But there had been something in Rachel’s voice he hadn’t been able to ignore. He’d become to attuned to her in the last ten years. As much as he hated disappointing Kurt, as guilty as he felt – his obligation towards Rachel was even deeper.

“Whatever,” Kurt said, turning away from him.

It wasn’t the best note to leave on. But that urgency in her voice… He shook his head, as he turned himself and put on his shoes. He’d deal with the fallout later. First, he had to make sure Rachel was okay.

* * *

The subway ride had gone in the blink of an eye, Blaine barely even noticed where he was going. Really, it was a miracle he didn’t take the wrong train, but finally, he stood in front of the St. James home. He hesitated at the door. Of course, he wanted to see Rachel and the kids. But then he thought back to yesterday. Had she noticed anything between him and Sebastian? If so, what would she say? What should he tell her? There really wasn’t a way to defend himself, none that she could accept. Losing her, after everything…

In a flash of determination, he rang the bell. He expected it to take some time for Rachel to answer, probably trying to appease the twins first, but before he could even finish the thought, the door opened. Rachel was standing in the door, in a dark red skirt and white sweater, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail. Her eyes were red, and yes, she’d definitely been crying. In one heartbeat, he took all of it in, in the next, she threw her arms around him in an embrace so tight it hurt.

On reflex, his arms closed around her, holding her, even as panic rose inside hm. Had something happened to Jesse, or worse, the twins?

Rachel took a step back, and she looked like she was going to cry any moment. Instead, she took his hand and pulled him inside towards the couch. A pot of tea and two steaming cups were standing on the table already.

“Rachel, what’s wrong?” he finally managed to ask as she pulled him down to sit with her. “Are the twins okay? Did something happen?”

She turned to him, and her expression softened even more.

“ _Blaine_ ,” she said, and for a moment, it seemed to be all she would say, but then she shook her head. “They’re fine. Shelby has them for a few days, she’s taking them on a trip to meet her parents. Jesse is at the theater with people from the agency, they’re going over all the props to make sure there’s no more sabotage.”

Blaine frowned, looking at her in confusion. “But… you said you needed help with the twins…”

“I lied,” Rachel replied. “I just wanted you to come over, but right before opening night, I wasn’t sure you’d just come over to talk. Which, you shouldn’t have, you honestly should be on vocal rest. But this is more important.”

Blaine gulped. If Rachel thought it was more important than vocal rest, something had to be really wrong. “You can tell me,” he said, taking her hand. “Whatever it is, just tell me and we’ll figure it out.”

She blinked against tears, before she sighed and looked to their intertwined hands. She squeezed his for a moment, before she looked back straight into his eyes.

“Sebastian was here,” she said softly.

Blaine froze. It felt awfully close to falling. Why on earth would Sebastian want to talk to her? He wouldn’t have told her anything… right? Not that Blaine deserved for this particular secret to be kept…

“We talked,” Rachel continued, choosing to ignore the turmoil her words had triggered. “A lot. About ten years ago. The crash. And you.”

He couldn’t breathe. This was worse. For a split second he even thought to throw out his confession to distract her, so she would focus on how Blaine cheated on her best friend, instead of… this. Instead of dragging out the thing that had connected them more than anything, and make her see the truth, make her see him… But he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

“I couldn’t even believe him at first,” Rachel said, “it just didn’t make any sense. But then I started thinking, about the last ten years, how you’ve changed since then, how your spark was getting dimmer and dimmer, and then I realized… it made way too much sense.”

He must have missed some key detail while he was busy panicking.

“Blaine, please be honest with me right now,” Rachel said. She still sounded warm and soft and comforting, but he could tell there was steel beneath the surface of the words, so he nodded.

“Are you really blaming yourself for what happened?”

Blaine stared at her. He couldn’t bring himself to answer, but she could see the truth in his face. He could see the moment she realized, the shock spreading over her face, new tears springing to her warm brown eyes, and Blaine had to look away, couldn’t stand to see the realization follow, have her turn away.

He felt her hand on his cheek, turning his head around until he faced her again. When she blinked, another tear fell down her check, but the expression on her face was pure determination. “I need you to listen to me now, Blaine. Do you think you can do that? Really listen, and pay attention, and not just deflect whatever I say because it doesn’t fit in the way you see the world right now?”

Blaine frowned, not sure what she meant by that, but he nodded. He’d do anything she asked, probably.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Blaine almost recoiled at her words. Every fiber within him pushed back. Maybe Rachel was just in denial, couldn’t accept that he was the one who’d caused her misery. But there was not even a hint of hesitation. Steel, he remembered, even more obvious now.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Rachel repeated, squeezing his hand. “It was an accident, Blaine. It could have happened anywhere, anytime.”

“I convinced you to go,” Blaine said, his voice barely audible in his own ears. “It never would have happened without me. And you, and the child, and… I ruined your life. I ruined everything.”

“No, Blaine. You didn’t have a chance. The police told us, remember? There was nothing you could have done. It was… yes, it was the worst thing that happened to us, ever. But blaming yourself won’t take away any of the pain. Look, I know this is scary. I talked about this with my therapist, because… well, you know I was blaming myself. I thought it was my fault, for insisting on a spa day, such an unnecessary thing…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Blaine said, the words falling out without even thinking.

“I know that now,” Rachel said, “but Blaine – it wasn’t your fault, either. This is one of the scariest things to realize, to think that something so awful can just happen, even if you did nothing wrong. But that’s what it was. Call it misfortune, or bad luck, or maybe fate. But you had no way of knowing this would happen. If I’d stayed at home, a driver could have missed a stop sign and hit me. I could have fallen down the stairs. I could have a million health complications. And there’s no way of predicting these things. You couldn’t have known. The accident wasn’t your fault. That wasn’t on you. You have to let go of that. Is this what you’ve been hurting over all these years?”

Blaine bit his lips, giving up on the attempt to hold back his tears. It was hopeless anyway.

“You’re not responsible for the accident,” Rachel said. “Do you know what you’re actually responsible for? For me still being alive. You have no idea in what a bad shape I was afterwards. Although… well, if anyone has an idea it’s you, isn’t it?” She sighed, shaking her head. “You’re the one who saw how broken I was,” she said, “you’re the one who saw I needed help, and you wouldn’t rest until I got it. There’s a very real chance I wouldn’t even be here right now, if you hadn’t seen the warning signals and gotten me the help I needed.”

Blaine stared at her, could feel how his face fell. They hadn’t talked about it, not really, and he had never dared to touch upon just why it felt so important to make sure she get every ounce of help they could afford. Just the thought of her gone…

“I’m here,” she said, as if she’d read his mind, “I’m not going anywhere. And that is thanks to you. You’re not a horrible person. You’re amazing. But you’re hurting. You’re a bit broken, like I was. Except not as lucky.”

Lucky? After she’d almost died, lost her child… how could any of that be considered lucky?

“I had you,” Rachel continued, “and Jesse, and you got me all the help I needed. And I was in too deep to see that you needed the same. I wish I could have taken you with me to therapy, I… I just didn’t dare to ask, I guess. But that’s in the past. I won’t let you fall through the cracks again, Blaine. You need help, and this time I’ll be the one insisting. We’ll find a way to put you back together. Because you deserve it. You didn’t ruin my life, Blaine. You saved it.”

The tears were silently streaming down his cheeks. His skin was burning, and the pain inside him felt like a hot, pulsating mass. His throat felt raw, as if something had been ripped open. And maybe that was the truth. But with Rachel’s eyes on him, warm, without a trace of judgement, he could finally see it. What was ripped open was a wound that hadn’t healed, that had become infected and festering, and Rachel ripped it open, to clean it, cut the edges and sew him back together.

She embraced him, holding him so close that it was painful, but right now, it felt like a relief. He pulled her just as close, as if their lives depended on it, the both of them crying until they ran out of tears, and they could breathe easily. Eventually, they broke the embrace. Blaine felt exhausted, even more than he’d been feeling in the last few weeks. But the dread had disappeared. Something had changed, like there had been an undertow, pulling at him incessantly just to drag him below the surface, and he only noticed its existence now, that it had disappeared.

Finally, he had confronted the demon at the back of his mind. And he was still here. They both were.

“Thank you,” he said eventually, his voice rough.

Rachel shook her head. “No _thank you_. No apologies. We’re in this together, okay? _Always_.”

It still felt monumental, but Blaine nodded, meeting her eyes now without fear. “I love you,” he said, and he felt the corners of his mouth quirk up.

Rachel returned his smile. “I love you, too. And because I do… there’s one more thing. The play, Blaine. It’s killing you. Not just the stalker, but the play, and trying to be perfect and doing the impossible. And I know Kurt is my friend, but… You have to walk away from this. I can’t watch you kill yourself.”

Blaine bit his lip and looked down. He didn’t speak though, just let her continue.

“I remember back when we did West Side Story,” Rachel said, “how bright you burnt. To stand on stage with you was… amazing. But it’s not like that anymore. You’ve lost that spark. The joy of it. You’re forcing yourself to go through with it. I think you need to step away from things. You need to see someone. A therapist.”

Blaine closed his eyes. “A psychiatrist,” he said softly, remembering Sebastian’s words like from another life. _You need to be in therapy. You probably need to be on medication._

“Maybe,” Rachel admitted. “But you have to walk away from this play.”

Blaine sighed, shaking his head. “It’s not that easy,” he said. “I can’t walk away from the play without walking away from my marriage.”

“Can I ask you something?” Rachel said.

He nodded.

“Do you even love him anymore?”

Blaine stared at her, and he felt like the air had been punched out of him. Such a simple question, such a strange one. In a way, it felt like he’d always loved Kurt. Not at first, maybe, not in a way he had noticed. But afterwards… really, even when they hadn’t been together, he’d been hopelessly hung up on him. It had turned into a fact, something he just knew without thinking about it. Like air, like breathing, something that was just there. And he hadn’t thought about it, not in a long time. And since the accident, since they lost their daughter, even more since Rachel had refused to try again and Blaine had defended her decision as if on instinct… since all that, Blaine knew that his feelings had been entangled into guilt so far that he hadn’t even dared to question what he did or didn’t feel. After all, he had destroyed so much – thought he’d destroyed so much – that he knew he’d spend the rest of his life making up for it…

But now, with Rachel holding his hands, when he was breathing for the first time in years… Looking back, the answer was hauntingly obvious.

“I don’t.”

Rachel’s gaze softened. “I know this is hard. And I know it’s scary. But you’re going to be okay. I’ll be there, and I’ll help you every step of the way. I already talked to Jesse, and he’s keeping an eye out for someone to take over your part. I can be there when you talk to Kurt, or if you need a place to stay, no matter how long. We’ll figure it all out.”

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, frowning. “I understand you want to help me and keep me safe. But… we’re talking about me leaving your best friend. Why are you so okay with this?”

“ _You’re_ my best friend,” Rachel replied. “And yes, I care about him, but we both know we haven’t been as close since the accident. Not like you and I are. I don’t think Kurt ever forgave me for going back on my promise to give you a child. I even understand that. But… it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re miserable. And you won’t be happy until you step away from the show. And from Kurt, if that’s what it takes.”

Laid out like this, it all seemed so simple. And still, the thought was overwhelming. Like walking away had suddenly become an option. Like he suddenly had _any_ options. He was feeling lightheaded, like the whole world had shifted on its axis and yet, as if things had just fallen into place.

Strange enough, he felt calm.

“I have to walk away,” he said softly. “But I’ll need some time. I can’t just drop everything right before opening night.”

“I know that,” Rachel said. “As I said, I talked to Jesse. He won’t be completely unprepared. They’ll find someone to take over.”

“I’ll talk to Kurt after opening night,” Blaine said, nodding. “I just have to make it through tomorrow, and then I’ll figure it out.”

“ _We_ will figure it out,” Rachel said. The relief was obvious in her smile, and Blaine didn’t have the words to express just how grateful he was. “All of it.”

And maybe the strangest thing that ever happened to him, he believed her.

* * *

The next day, Blaine looked up at the theater looming over him, and stopped just for a moment to appreciate it. It wasn’t even that impressive a building, but it still filled him with dread. But behind that, he could feel something else, just a faint flutter, barely there, and by now so strange that he barely recognized it.

Hope.

It would all be over soon.

He had no doubt that Rachel had talked to Jesse already about Blaine stepping away from the production. He’d get them through opening night, and the first performances until they figured out who’d replace him. The hardest part would be telling Kurt.

He glanced at his husband, who had kept walking and only now turned around when he noticed Blaine had stopped following. That would be a tough conversation, one he definitely hadn’t been able to have the day before, after returning from Rachel’s. Fortunately, he had the perfect excuse to avoid every conversation. Vocal rest. A lot of sleep. Really, he couldn’t have talked if he’d wanted to.

Courage, a voice in his mind taunted him, what a ridiculous line that had been coming from him of all people.

“Are you coming?” Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow in impatience.

Blaine nodded, took another deep breath and followed. He would have the conversation, and somehow get through it, and then, after tonight, he would figure out his life.

If he survived opening night.

The thought doused that spark of hope like a cold shower. There was still a stalker, and just because that weight around his heart had eased up, it didn’t mean he wasn’t in danger anymore. Sebastian was worried, not sure he could protect Blaine…

The danger was still there, Blaine remembered as they walked backstage. And in a way, it seemed even scarier now that he started to think he might actually give a damn about his life after the play. The thought was almost enough to make him turn around, to do what Sebastian had said and run.

But no. He would finish what he started. Kurt needed this, and even if Blaine was starting to realize that he wasn’t actually to blame for their misery, he still couldn’t just walk away and leave someone hanging that had been part of his life – such an essential, integral part of his life – for so long.

Around him, he noticed a few people he hadn’t seen before, most of them handling some of the props he’d use later in the show.

“Who are they?” Blaine asked.

“Remember that agency Jesse hired?” Kurt asked. “They’re making sure nothing’s tampered with. Speak of the devil…”

Kurt led them through the people around them until they arrived at the edge of the stage, where Jesse was standing, eyeing the stage as the lighting was checked. He was talking to someone, and as they came closer, Blaine saw that it was Sebastian.

“Why is he even here?” Kurt muttered under his breath.

Blaine couldn’t answer, nor could he help staring as the tiniest frown appeared on Sebastian’s face before he turned around. Their eyes met, and for a moment, there was nobody else, as if the world disappeared around them. Sebastian’s eyes scanned over him, uncertain, worried about what effect his conversation with Rachel would have had on him. Blaine stopped, and found himself smiling – just a bit, but it seemed enough to have Sebastian release the breath that he must have held.

“Oh, you’re here,” Jesse said, breaking the spell. He looked at Blaine with a slightly curious expression, as if he wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t shown up at all.

“I know we’re late,” Kurt said, “but I got another call. This could be good or bad news. Apparently, June Dolloway is coming.”

“…wait, she’s still alive?” Jesse asked, frowning.

“Apparently, she is. This could be a good thing,” Kurt said, turning to Blaine, “she liked you once, right?”

“That didn’t exactly work out,” Blaine said. “I’m not sure if this is a good or a bad thing.”

“Me neither,” Kurt said, “but we have to make the best of it. I suggest we make sure everything is absolutely perfect.”

As Jesse and Kurt started discussing this new piece of information, Blaine closed his eyes, waiting for the additional pressure to hit him, but it didn’t come. It didn’t change anything, really. What difference did one famous socialite make?

“Are you okay?”

Sebastian’s voice was quiet, calm, and still enough to end the other men’s discussion. Blaine looked up and felt just the slightest bit lighter.

“I’ll feel better after tonight,” Blaine said. He ignored the way Kurt and Jesse were looking at them, just focused on Sebastian’s eyes on him.

“You should probably get ready,” Jesse said, maybe in an attempt to cut the tension that had arisen between them, before turning to Kurt. “Can you take Blaine to his dressing room?” He nodded towards Sebastian. “We talked, and with the whole stalker situation it’s better if he isn’t walking around alone.”

Kurt nodded. “That’s probably a good idea,” he said. “Let’s go.”

And really, there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Not like he could have the conversation he needed to have right now. With a nod he turned to follow.

“Blaine?”

He stopped immediately at the sound of Sebastian’s voice, turned back around as if on a string. Sebastian’s face was completely open, vulnerable in a way he rarely was.

“Yes?” Blaine asked, for just a moment ignoring that they were backstage, surrounded by the crew, other detectives, Jesse, _Kurt…_

Sebastian hesitated for just a second. “Good luck.”

Blaine let go off the breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding. But before he could reply, Kurt was stepping forward, rolling his eyes.

“The proper phrase is _Break a leg_ ,” he said.

Not even for a fraction of a second did Sebastian’s eyes leave Blaine’s as he answered. “Yeah, well, I rather he didn’t.”

Blaine’s eyes widened, and he could feel a rush of warmth at these words. He wasn’t even sure why it got to him the way it did. Still, he found himself blinking away a tear.

“Aren’t you two the sweetest?” Jesse said, rolling his eyes. “But seriously, Blaine, you should get ready.”

Kurt’s hand closed around his and started to pull, and just like that, reality came crashing back in. still, Blaine stopped, didn’t go along immediately.

“Sebastian,” he said, “thank you.”

For just a moment, Sebastian’s eyes seemed to light up, as if he understood at least part of what Blaine was saying. He nodded, the smile on his face for just a moment soft and sweet, before pulling back into an all-business façade. Blaine turned now and followed Kurt towards his dressing room.

“What even was that?” Kurt asked.

“He’s worried about me,” Blaine said. He would not get into this. Not now, not when it was almost over.

“I still don’t trust him,” Kurt replied. “Are we absolutely sure he has nothing to do with this?”

“You know perfectly well that he didn’t show up here until that stalker thing was underway,” Blaine replied.

“I know, but-“

“Can we not?” Blaine asked. “I don’t feel like arguing right now. I shouldn’t strain my voice right before the performance, anyway.”

Kurt’s mouth closed shut, his expression slightly hurt before he pushed it away. Strange, it didn’t look unfamiliar, but Blaine couldn’t remember when Kurt had begun hiding his feelings. Maybe he’d been too focused on himself to see the changes in his husband. It should feel momentous, sad, too realize just how little had survived from their marriage, their connection.

It should.

“We’re here,” Kurt said when they reached his dressing room. “Get ready, I’ll be in the office, going over the seating. Maybe we can change something up, we obviously want June to have the best view.”

Blaine nodded, and somehow managed a smile, before he stepped into the dressing room. As he closed the door behind him, he breathed out in relief at being alone for just a bit. They’d definitely had to talk after tonight… he couldn’t keep this up for any longer. He didn’t want it, either. Strange enough, he actually wanted to live – really, live, not just force himself through the day, rolling the rock of his own failures up a hill again and again and again…

Soon. Only get through tonight.

Still, as he started getting ready, and went through his vocal warm-ups, he felt like he was just going through the motion. A buzz was running through his veins, like he could feel something coming, a low humming of dread. Like very soon, the walls would be crashing down, like it had been coming for a long time, but only now was he aware enough to notice. He barely noticed the people around him, even as he sat down to get his makeup done, his hair styled. He felt removed from it all, like he’d been transformed into a mannequin, a puppet that would follow down the path others had designed for it.

He had to get through tonight, somehow. Give it his all, give this show all the boost he could – enough to walk away with a clean conscience.

He felt like throwing up.

It wasn’t nerves, not stage fright. It just felt wrong. And it was made more obvious that things weren’t quite as they should be with the detectives walking around, checking props and scenery.

Jesse at least seemed to thrive. Even in his dazed state Blaine was amazed at the way he whirled around the stage and backstage area, checking in with actors, stagehands and detectives alike, baffling most of them with outlandish pep-talks.

“All done,” the stylist said bringing Blaine back to the present.

He looked at himself in the mirror, under the harsh lighting. His own eyes looked back at him from the face of a stranger.

“Perfect,” the stylist said, before turning to the next actor.

Blaine still looked at himself, or rather at what he was transformed into. She hadn’t done anything outrageous with his hair, somehow putting in more volume, his curls styled into what looked more like waves, the make-up mostly giving color and contour. Maybe it wasn’t those changes that made him feel so displaced…

He got up from the chair, turned away from the mirror and stepped back. Everyone around him seemed to be buzzing with excitement. He couldn’t share it. Instead, he stepped back, tried to find a corner for himself, just to keep away from the noise. Just to focus on breathing for a bit.

That was where Rachel found him, as the buzz backstage reached its height. Dressed to the nines, she sat down beside him, just taking his hand and resting her head on his shoulders. He put an arm around her, grounding himself by letting her warmth bleed into him.

“How are you?” she asked.

“I don’t even know,” Blaine said. “I just want tonight to be over.”

She turned to face him. He could feel her gaze more than he saw it, the warmth and care in it. “Will you talk tonight?”

He nodded, unable to say anything, knowing his voice would break. He still had no idea how, or what to say, but he knew he couldn’t not do it.

Rachel squeezed his hand. “You know you can always stay with us, right?”

Despite everything, he smiled. “Thank you.”

And for a while, it was enough, just to sit here, away from the chaos. They didn’t even have to talk, just her presence managed to calm him down.

“I changed my mind, _you two_ are the sweetest.”

Blaine looked up, to see Jesse standing in front of them, watching them with a smile half fond and half amused.

“Is it time?” Blaine asked.

Jesse shook his head. “Not yet. Although the first stragglers have found their way into the auditorium already. Just a quick question though, have you seen Kurt anywhere?”

“Not since we got here, no,” Blaine said.

“Hmmm…” Jesse frowned, looking around. “He said something about looking over the seating, but that’s the last I’ve seen of him…”

“He wanted to go to the office,” Blaine said. A new concern rose within him. It really had been quite a while since he’d seen Kurt. What if something had happened? He thought of the stalker, and suddenly a spike of fear shot through him. “I’ll check on him.”

Jesse’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh… no, you’re not. You’re not going anywhere alone, remember?”

“I could check,” Rachel suggested.

“No!” Jesse said it the same time he did, and with one look at his producer Blaine realized he’d had the same thought.

“I’ll take Blaine,” Jesse said, “how about you go take your seat with Quinn? I’m sure she’s dying to catch up with you.”

Blaine hadn’t even known she was coming. Strange, how so many old connections had broken apart in the last ten years…

Rachel was clearly skeptical, but Blaine gave her a smile he hoped would end up encouraging. She nodded eventually.

They made their way through the inner workings of the theater, hidden away from the lobby where the audience had started streaming in.

“Just so you know, there’s a casting call out for your understudy,” Jesse said. “Or more, but I want you to know it’s all up to you. So, no pressure.”

Blaine knew by now that this was Jesse in a supportive mode, something he only started grasping for anyone but Rachel since the twins were born. Still, he appreciated it.

They arrived at the office, and Blaine found the door half open. Nervously, he stepped closer, looking in. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but his worries were somewhat assuaged. Kurt was sitting at the desk, looking at something. He didn’t seem injured. Only at a closer look did he notice the rigid line of his back, and cold rushed over him as he recognized that posture.

He might not be injured, but he was in pain. That frozen posture, as if holding himself as rigid as possible might keep his heart together. The hitching of his breath that could be heard through the room, as if suppressing sobs.

Blaine had only seen Kurt this way a few times, and his heart clenched at the sight.

Jesse glanced into the office, then gave Blaine a questioning look.

“I’ll check,” Blaine said softly.

“Okay, I’ll be next door,” Jesse said.

Blaine nodded, and after a deep breath stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. He kept his eyes on Kurt, and saw just the slightest change, him straightening up even further, the only sign that he clearly noticed him entering.

Slowly, Blaine walked closer, giving Kurt every opportunity to say something, stop him. But nothing came. He started to run a million scenarios through his mind, wondering just what could have happened. But he couldn’t think of anything.

He rounded the desk to finally stand in front of Kurt, and now the tears running down his face were obvious. He took in another shaky breath, looking down at the desk, although he clearly wasn’t even seeing it anymore.

“What happened?” Blaine asked softly, even as followed the direction of Kurt’s gaze.

He froze.

On the desk, there was an envelope, and scattered around it were photographs. It was a strange angle, taken from somewhere above, and too close, but still, they left no doubt of what was happening. Pictures of Sebastian and him, embracing, kissing, Sebastian’s hand hidden between their bodies. On some level, removed from the shock of seeing them, Blaine suddenly understood the perspective. The camera must have been in the lamps over the mirror, that damn, creepy mirror that had freaked him out immediately. But really, what did it matter now?

He looked back up, and he knew the guilt was obvious in his face. Not that denying this was even a remote option. His eyes met Kurt’s, and under the tears and the pain, anger broke out, and betrayal.

His voice soft, and cold, and broken, he only said one word.

“Why?”


	10. To Win The Chance To Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's hear it for rainy days, as they bring you the fast update.  
> I loved reading everybody's theories and guesses, and was so happy to see readers engaging with the story, so thank you all a lot. I hope you enjoy the finale.  
> (Also, there will be an epilogue to wrap things up, most likely dropping on Friday.)

* * *

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. In an ideal world, he would have done the show, afterwards sat Kurt down to tell him how the show had drained him, how he couldn’t go on with it, or their marriage. Thy would have talked, and cried, and maybe together realized that this was the right decision.

But it wasn’t ideal, and looking back, it had been ridiculous to ever expect ideal circumstances. Really, he should have seen this coming – because they were long past the point of having mature discussions; because they’d become toxic beyond repair; because, despite everything, Blaine had cheated.

Really, it couldn’t have happened any other way.

And like an out of body experience, like he still was just a puppet on a string, he found himself talking, as if an explanation might help either of them at this point.

“It was earlier this week,” he said, “after that incident with the mannequin. I… I think I had some kind of… breakdown. I was terrified. And he… he took care of me. Kept me safe. Let me breathe.” He stopped, not sure how to continue. Even to himself, it sounded shallow, meaningless. Like he was trying to cast blame, when really, he just wanted to explain. “It was one time,” he continued. “And I’m so sorry it happened this way. Because… that was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

Kurt stared at him, disbelief obvious. “Is that supposed to be an excuse?” he asked, his voice high, defensive as his posture.

“An explanation,” Blaine said. His eyes fell back to the pictures. At first, they were disconcerting. He could barely compare the images – crude, profane, almost obscene – with how he had felt – overwhelmed, on fire, as if he’d shatter into pieces if Sebastian hadn’t been there holding him together. But nobody would understand that from the pictures. Of course Kurt wouldn’t.

He stopped when his eyes fell on one particular picture. He remembered it immediately, that moment when they’d still been coming down from the high. He could see himself looking away, focusing on something in the mirror panel. But what stood out more to him than anything was the way Sebastian was looking at him. He’d seen it back then, had known that he couldn’t analyze it too deeply, couldn’t think too much of it. But now, with his life as he’d known it falling apart under his touch, he looked. Warmth, care…

Love.

Like the last piece that fell into place, he finally allowed himself to see it. He might still not believe he deserved it, but that didn’t matter anymore. He stopped himself from reaching out to touch the photo, reminding himself of the situation he was in.

Kurt let out something that could have been a bitter laugh, or maybe a snort, or something in between.

“After all we’ve been through,” he said, “all the times you’ve told me he means nothing, every blow we had to take, every loss, every failure – that’s what you can say for yourself? It was just once? It didn’t mean anything?”

Another wave of guilt hit Blaine when he realized it wasn’t done, that it wasn’t all out in the open yet. It would be hard enough for Kurt to take if that was actually what it was. But he knew the truth was even worse. He couldn’t bear to look up, couldn’t bear to take his eyes off the photograph either.

“It did mean something,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Only four words, but they seemed to suck the air out of the room. Even without looking up, he could see Kurt’s mouth drop open, hear him gasp for breathe at the admission.

“What?” he eventually managed to say.

Blaine closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself. This was it then. This was how they ended.

“I don’t think you understand just how… miserable I’ve been. For years, but definitely over the last few months. All that pressure of the show working out, being just perfect. Brittany’s choreography, that’s just… above my level, no matter how hard I tried. No support system, all our friends gone except Rachel and Jesse. Not to mention all I’ve been carrying around for the last ten years. And… you… you barely had anything to say to me that wasn’t criticism. It was like… sometimes I wasn’t sure if you even _liked_ me. And then there were the notes, and the accidents, and the stalking… and nobody seemed to care, except for Rachel.”

He stopped, trying desperately to blink away tears. He had no right to cry now. He’d felt guilty before about what he’d taken from Kurt. He was ready to start believing he’d been wrong. But he had no illusions that right now, with the words he was saying, he was actually destroying Kurt’s life.

“And then, Sebastian showed up. And he… he listened. He took me seriously, never made me feel insane, or ridiculous… He _helped_ me, not just with the choreography, but just… being there for me. He made me smile… even happy at times. I felt safe with him. Seen. Like a… Damn, I felt like a _person_ again. So yes, I… I’m sorry, I know, this is the last thing you want to hear. But I… It wasn’t just a misstep, not a meaningless, physical one-time thing. I… I have feelings for him, Kurt. And I’m sorry that it happened like this. You don’t deserve this. If it hadn’t all been such a mess, then maybe we could have found a way to make some sort of clean break. Not like this. But the truth is… you and me… we’ve been broken so long… it’s all gotten so… toxic, and… _twisted_ , and I…” He couldn’t stop the tears, didn’t even understand when he’d gotten so sensitive, tearing up so easily. “I’m sorry,” he finished. The words felt hollow, even as he spoke them, knowing they would not bring comfort.

Kurt was shaking now, and more and more, anger won out over the pain and sadness. Or maybe that was just a defense mechanism.

“Are you serious right now?” he eventually managed to get out. “Is that how you justify yourself? That you’ve had a rough time? What the hell do you think I’ve gone through?”

The ferocity of his anger made Blaine flinch back, but he looked up now, ready to take what he deserved.

“You’ve had it rough?” Kurt asked. “Cry me a goddamn river, Blaine! Like you’re not the person everything works out for anytime. No matter what happens, you always land on your feet. That’s how it goes, isn’t it? You show up at a new school, and immediately are begged to take a lead role. We break up, and you drop out of NYADA, not a big deal, you fall into the next relationship immediately and then drop that when you’re done with and go back to me. You’re the one everybody wants. And you know, I learned to live with that. I thought… I actually thought that we would do this together. We got into this mess together, and we’d fight our way out of it. Like we promised. Like we _vowed_. If we don’t… then what’s the damn point? In good times and bad, wasn’t that what we said? But I guess that’s all out of the window the damn _second_ Sebastian Smythe shows up to flatter your ego! How could you possibly resist that?”

Blaine shook his head, as if that could somehow deflect all the accusations. He didn’t even understand where they were coming from. He knew he wasn’t blameless – hell, he could come up in the blink of an eye with a whole list of ways in which he’d messed up – but this seemed so… unfair.

“Do you honestly think that?” he asked. “That I’ve had a walk in the park, and fell for Sebastian because I was… bored or something? Have you seriously not seen what I’ve been going through? It’s like I was broken in that accident, and never managed to put myself together quite right. I thought it was all my fault. It still feels like it, honestly. But you didn’t even see it. We’ve been living together, and you haven’t even realized what it did to me, how I’ve been falling apart for ten years. How is it that you’ve lived with me, seen me every day and never noticed, and all Sebastian had to do was take one look at me to see something was wrong?”

“Stop acting like you’re the victim in all of this!” Kurt yelled. “Did you get turned down at every opportunity you tried for? Did you lose your brother out of the blue? Did your dad die after you had to watch him go through excruciating chemo for months? Oh wait, no! That was me! And the car crash? Give me a break! You’re the one who _walked_ away from that crash. Rachel is the one who almost died. Our daughter is the one who actually died. And yes, fine, you’ve lost her too, but so have I. You don’t see me blaming that for everything that’s going wrong in my life. And you didn’t seem that concerned about having a child when Rachel went back on her promise. You were the one defending her decision, so don’t act like a family was so important for you!”

“Of course I wanted a family, but not at that cost!” Blaine was surprised at himself when he raised his voice. But while he knew he had done something indefensible, he would not listen to Rachel being blamed. “She couldn’t go through another surrogacy. Don’t you understand how traumatized she was? Just the thought of pregnancy triggered her. And to expect her to go through that again, only to know she’d lose the child? How could you even think about asking her?”

“Why do you always take her side?” Kurt shot back. “Why does my own husband care more about Rachel than me?”

“Well, why does Rachel care more about me than my own husband does?”

Blaine was shaking, as if that outburst had taken his own energy. He stepped back, shaking his head, and taking a deep breath. This was pointless. He should have known right away that this wouldn’t be helping anyone. What was he even trying to prove? Yes, Kurt deserved an explanation for what he’d done, but he was fooling himself if he thought any explanation would make him feel better. Nothing good could come out of this conversation, not when both their tempers were running so hot, when the hurt was so fresh. Maybe with distance, a long way down the road, they would be able to have a constructive conversation. But whatever they did now, it would only end up hurting the both of them even more.

With a shuddering breath, Blaine took another step back.

“I don’t want to fight,” he said. “The truth is, we’ve been broken beyond repair for so long. And you pretending we’re fine is not going to fix us. I thought for so long that it’s my fault. That it’s my responsibility to make up for it. But the truth is, I can’t. It doesn’t help you, and it’s killing me, and… I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to. I’m sorry, I truly am, about how this has all gone down. But you and me… what we have isn’t healthy. For my sanity, I have to walk away. From you, and also from the show… Jesse will find someone to replace me. And I promise, I won’t make this difficult for you. I won’t ask anything from you. What little there is, you can have it all, and I’ll find a way to pay you back for our debt.”

Kurt stared at him, and slowly, the anger faded, leaving the sadness, and the pain. “Just like that? After everything… it’s really that easy for you?”

Blaine sighed, shaking his head. “Trust me. None of this is easy.”

“Right,” Kurt said, clearly not believing a word. “Have to give it to you, though. Stellar timing, Blaine. Right at the most dramatic moment. I don’t think you could have timed it better unless you’d literally walked off stage mid-performance. After everything we’ve been through, this is how you end it? Walking away right before opening night, with no understudy, no way to replace you?”

“I’ll perform,” Blaine said, “tonight, and right up to the point you find a replacement. But no more. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He turned away, clenching his eyes shut when finally, he could hear Kurt’s sob – just one, too much to hold in, and he felt a part of his heart – the one still caring about Kurt, and what they’d been to each other – break. But he knew there was nothing else he could do. With tears falling from his eyes, he walked out of the room.

Just tonight, he told himself as he kept walking. He just had to get through tonight. And a few more nights after that, until Jesse found someone. Maybe some more, until that person was trained. Would he ever get out of here?

“Oh, come _on_!”

He looked up, almost shocked at the sound of another voice. Jesse was leaning against the opposite wall, looking at him with slight exasperation. Chandler was standing beside him, observing Blaine with an expression he couldn’t read.

“You know what crying does to your vocal performance?” Jesse asked. “Not to mention your makeup. We have to get that fixed again before you get on stage.” He stopped, frowning. “You will get on stage, right?”

“Yes,” Blaine confirmed without making eye contact.

“Wh-what the hell is going on?” Chandler asked.

Blaine looked up at him, then to the door. He couldn’t even be bothered anymore to be upset about him.

“Could you… check on Kurt?” he asked, instead. “Maybe it’s better if he isn’t alone right now.”

Chandler stared at him, and underneath the disbelief there was definitely hatred. That was okay, he could deal with being the bad guy in Chandler’s eyes. Kurt’s, too, that was probably unavoidable. But he couldn’t let that hold him back.

Just a few more steps.

He followed Jesse backstage again, let the makeup artist do her best to fix him up, even as she kept making remarks. _Just get through the performance._ He kept telling himself like a mantra. One step at a time. He closed his eyes, letting her finish, and even once she stepped away, he couldn’t find the energy to stand up. He didn’t even know how he was supposed to make it through the show. He was a mess. He’d promised to go through with it. Still…

A hand landed on his shoulder, and when he opened his eyes to look at his reflection, at that stranger that had been brought back to his former look, he found Sebastian standing beside him. He sighed in relief, covered his hand with his own, and breathed.

Whatever would happen tonight… there was something to rely on.

“What happened?” Sebastian asked, the concern clear in his voice, and Blaine wondered just what he’d heard.

“He knows. About us.” Blaine was surprised at how calm his voice sounded, as if he informed Sebastian about an interesting article he’d read. As bizarre as it all was, there was something liberating about burning bridges.

He could see the shock in Sebastian’s eyes, and that too felt like a relief. Like someone else could feel these emotions that were too overwhelming for himself right now. He turned his head, so he could look at Sebastian directly. For a second he hesitated, then he got to his feet put a hand on Sebastian’s cheek.

“Just get me through tonight, Sebastian. And then we’ll figure it all out. I’ll get help. I’ll walk out of here. But get me through tonight.”

Sebastian was staring at him like he’d asked for the moon, something absolutely impossible, and Blaine shuddered when he realized that he’d try anyway. There was something else though, and it took him another moment to recognize the emotion.

Fear.

It was another bolt of guilt shooting through him. Sebastian was scared of what might happen to him, of not being able to protect him.

_I saw one person I cared about die. You will not be the second._

Pushing away any other thought, any smidgen of hesitation, he rose to the tips of his toes, and kissed Sebastian. It didn’t matter who saw them now, would never matter again. Sebastian’s lips opened under his, and for just a few moments, Blaine allowed himself to indulge.

“Be careful,” Sebastian whispered once they parted, still close enough that Blaine could feel his breath on his skin.

Blaine nodded, then stepped back. “Will you stay close?”

Sebastian almost rolled his eyes. “ _Of course_ ,” he breathed.

Despite everything, Blaine managed to smile just the slightest bit. He took Sebastian’s hand, let their fingers intertwine. Then, he nodded to himself.

“It’s time,” he said.

Sebastian gripped his hand harder, letting his eyes dart around as he led Blaine to the stage and across it, over to the far side where that scaffolding was standing, thoroughly checked by Sebastian’s coworkers on any faults and hopefully safe. Over to where he would hide until the overture was through, the curtain rose, and his character made his first appearance. Farther, to the edge of the stage where a black curtain separated it from the backstage area.

He stopped there, as Sebastian walked past him, stepping right in front of the small gap in the curtain, the path from on stage to back stage, and for a moment, they just stayed like this, their fingers still intertwined. Blaine took a last look at Sebastian, and finally allowed himself to let go of all the barriers he’d tried to put between them, all to deny the pull that had been there right from the start. One moment to take it all in.

It was almost too much.

Within a second, something changed in Sebastian’s expression. All softness faded, turned into sharp, cold steel. Blaine felt a lump in his throat as he turned his head, following Sebastian’s gaze.

Chandler was on the other side of the stage, following them, no storming towards them. “ _You_ ,” he hissed, as he came closer, raising his arm, and Blaine could just so see the glint of metal in his hand.

The next thing he knew, he felt Sebastian’s hands on his shoulders, gripping hard enough to bruise, and then Sebastian was whirling him around, putting himself between Blaine and the man coming for him.

And then, in quick succession, two shots.

Blaine’s ears were ringing at the deafening sound. Time slowed down, every fraction of a second stretching into an eternity as he saw, _felt_ , Sebastian’s body jerk, once, twice, losing his balance. A groan in his ear as Sebastian crashed against him, and then he was falling. There were screams around him, some close and clear, many more muffled and far away. His heart had stopped beating, and then…

White hot pain as his back and head hit the stage’s wooden floor, another impact as Sebastian landed on top of him, another groan, but no breath.

His mind was filled with one thought only.

_No!_

With a thud, a hand pushed down beside his head. Blaine stare in disbelief as, impossibly, Sebastian hoisted himself up and span into a half sitting position. His right hand moved, and from somewhere he pulled a gun himself. Blaine could only watch as his arm shot up, and then, two more shots, closer, louder, and then, Chandler’s scream drowned out everyone else.

Blaine stared.

Sebastian was crouched above him, the gun still pointed into Chandler’s direction, his breathing heavy, but no sign of injury. Blaine stared at the material of his black turtleneck, expecting blood to ooze from it… but it wasn’t.

Blaine lifted himself up on his elbows, to get some idea of what was happening around him. Beyond the curtain, he could hear voices shouting, around them people were running. On the stage, Chandler was lying on the floor wailing, the gun a few feet away from him, and blood flowing from his legs. Three men had appeared on stage, all broad shouldered and all in black. One was talking into a walkie-talkie as he secured the gun, one holding Chandler down while the third slapped a pair of handcuffs on him.

Sebastian turned towards him. Just for a moment, he looked young, _so young_ , like years ago, when he’d looked up at Blaine, earnest for once, serious, asking for another chance. Then, he exhaled harshly, as if in relief. Slowly, he got to his feet, as if the movement was painful, and pulled Blaine up, too. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse, barely audible over the commotion.

“ _Are you?!”_ Blaine stared at him, disbelieving, even as Sebastian slipped an arm around him to steady him. As if on instinct, Blaine let a hand rest against he other man’s chest – and frowned, when he felt something hard, solid under the sweater’s fabric.

Sebastian frowned, then understanding dawned on his face. “I’m wearing a vest,” he said. “I’m okay. It just hurt like hell.”

Blaine stared at him, taking a few seconds until the words pierced the fog in his mind. He looked back to Chandler, and the men holding him down.

“Who are they?” he asked. “Are they working for Gray?”

“No, they’re NYPD. Undercover cops,” Sebastian replied.

Blaine’s eyes widened.

“What?” Sebastian asked. “Of course there’s police, we didn’t manage to find the stalker in time. There should be some in the auditorium, too. Sounds like they’re evacuating…”

As Blaine tried to process this new development, or really, just the last two minutes, he saw another movement at the far side of the stage. Someone not running away, but rather stepping closer. Stumbling closer.

Kurt.

He stared at the scene, as if he couldn’t grasp it. He looked to Chandler, held down and cuffed, the police talking, then Blaine himself, who shrank back into Sebastian’s hold. Kurt stepped back, shaking his head, before turning to Chandler.

“You?” he asked. “I don’t understand… why would you do that?”

Chandler looked up, straining his neck to do so. “I did it for you,” he whimpered. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He doesn’t deserve you… he doesn’t deserve your show! It should have been you, all along. You should have taken lead right from the start, and you’d have made this… perfect. I just know it. And I thought if I could show you he doesn’t care… that he won’t stand by you when it comes down to it… I thoguht you’d wake up. That you’d send him away and finally take what’s yours.”

Blaine stared at him in disbelief. That had been it? That was… _all_? It felt so ridiculous, so trivial, and to think that _this_ was behind the absolute _hell_ he’d been through?

“How could you do that?” Kurt asked, his voice as broken as Blaine felt. “I never wanted any of this. How could you possibly think I’d want _any_ of this?!”

“It was for you,” Chandler repeated. “I just needed you to see… It was all for you…”

Kurt stumbled as if he’d been hit, and finally, looked back to Blaine. He was shaking, his face paler than ever under his tears, gaunt, and it looked as if all life was draining from him. And maybe it was, in this moment, when all had just broken down and fallen to pieces. Kurt raised his hand as if to reach out.

“Blaine…” His voice was raw, desperate, and it was impossible to say for what – forgiveness, reassurance, _anything_ , and Blaine…

His heart heavy, Blaine turned away, pressing his face against Sebastian’s shoulder as he sought refuge in his embrace. Immediately, Sebastian’s arms closed around him, holding him there in place, like a vice, like there was nothing more important in the world right now than to keep him from looking back.

And maybe it was. On some level Blaine knew, if he looked now, it might destroy him, to see the utter breakdown, what it looked like to lose everything. Despite it all, Blaine closed his eyes, put everything out of his mind except the warmth surrounding him. None of it mattered.

Now, finally, he felt safe.

* * *

The rest of the night went over in a blur. There was talking to the police – thankfully cut short thanks to Sebastian and the agency’s connections. The theater had been evacuated without much trouble or anyone getting hurt. Rachel had waited for them outside, falling into Jesse’s arms, then letting go to embrace Blaine. She hadn’t said much about Sebastian’s presence, just thanked him for his role before kissing Blaine’s cheek.

Somehow, the evening had ended.

And so he found himself in Sebastian’s shower, warm water falling down on him, as he washed away the makeup, the sweat and fear and all the pain he’d been put through in the last few months. Years, maybe.

As he stepped out of the shower, he pulled a dark towel around himself, stopping for a moment just to feel the softness of the fabric. On a stool near the door, he found clothes. Sebastian must have brought them in – sweatpants, long enough that he had to roll them up a bit, and also, warming Blaine right to the core, an old, washed out navy hoody, the Dalton crest on it still bright and red. Nostalgia swept over him as he put them on.

Finally, he dared to look at himself in the mirror. The makeup was gone, and he had washed out all product out of his hair. With the wet curls falling into his forehead, he looked at himself.

He looked… different, like this. Younger. It reminded him too much of the teenager he’d been what felt like a lifetime ago. Bruised, and beaten, and terrified, and with no idea what the future held for him. Not a clue of all the devastating blows, loss, defeat, pain… not of the good parts either, of belonging, happiness, love no matter its outcome.

He raised a hand, touching the mirror, as he looked for something in the eyes of his reflection, of the boy he’d been.

He would take better care of him from now on, he promised himself in that moment. Take better care, and never let him get hurt like this again. It would work out, somehow. He wasn’t alone. Rachel would be there, and Sebastian as well. Hopefully, he’d be able to reconnect with at least some among his family and friends that he’d pushed away for telling him all those things about his marriage that he had refused to hear.

His hair still damp, he walked out of the bathroom. For the first time he allowed himself to take a look at Sebastian’s apartment. It didn’t feel quite as lived in as his own, but really, he’d take it if it meant he could leave the memories haunting that place behind as well.

Sebastian was in the living room, a bag with take-out boxes on the floor, and two steaming plates laid out on the couch table. Blaine stepped closer, and only when the spicy aroma filled his nostrils, he realized that he was starving.

Sebastian looked up to him with a shy smile, that looked a bit out of place on him. “I figured we could both use some food,” he said with a shrug. “You still like Chicken Korma, right?”

Blaine nodded, surprised and touched that he would even remember such a throwaway line from all those years ago. Comfort food, that’s what he’d called it back then. Well, he definitely could use some of that. He slid onto the couch beside Sebastian who handed him a plate.

For a while, they didn’t talk. Sebastian put on some movie while they ate – some cartoon, though thankfully neither Disney nor any other musical – and for just a bit, Blaine could forget all of tonight, all of the last few months and years. It was so easy, just to sit beside a friend (more than that, but he wouldn’t start analyzing them now), have some comfort food, watch two cartoon barbarians complete twelve herculean tasks, occasionally stealing a piece of lamb from Sebastian’s plate.

It felt completely removed from anything that had happened to him lately. He couldn’t be more grateful.

It was a bit harder once the plate were put aside, and they’d drifted closer together. Sure, leaning into Sebastian’s arm slung over his shoulder was nice, was easy. But it was harder to reign his thoughts in, to keep tonight’s events away from him.

With a sigh, he sank further into Sebastian. He felt restless, again a buzzing under his skin. Sebastian shifted, pulling him closer.

“We can talk if you want,” Sebastian said after a moment of hesitation.

“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” Blaine answered honestly. “I don’t even know what will happen next…”

To his disappointment, Sebastian pushed him just a bit away, enough that they could look into each others’ eyes. “What do you think?” he asked.

Blaine took a moment to actually do so. Eventually, he spoke. “I think… I think my marriage is over. And I think the play is done, too.”

Sebastian was watching him with interest. “Might not be the case,” he said thoughtfully. “They’re going to lose what, a week of performances? Two at the most? But just think of the notoriety this whole thing must have caused…”

“Maybe,” Blaine said, “but after tonight, I… I honestly don’t think I could go back. It might be safe now, but…” He shook his head. “I don’t think I can.”

“You don’t have to,” Sebastian said, his voice surprisingly soft.

Blaine took Sebastian’s hand in his, carefully stroking over the skin on the back of his hand. “I hope Jesse can replace me before the first performance. Who knows, maybe Chandler even gets what he wants. I don’t know. But… it’s really weird. My marriage is over, my career imploded before it ever really began, and basically, my whole life just went up in smoke.” He paused, and without even intending to, started to smile. “And I think… I’m okay with it.”

Sebastian grinned, and Blaine found it reflecting something inside his own mind, just aa sliver of serenity, or maybe hilarity. After all, it was over. Everything burnt to the ground, and he was ready to start anew. It was almost something to get excited about. Blaine moved closer, let Sebastian’s arms close around him. As he breathed in the other man – for once free, allowed to do so – his eyes slid shut. Slowly, the night’s exhaustion spread through him, weighing him down, and while the cartoon heroes slowly made their way through the place that sends you mad, he drifted off.

On some level, at some point, he was aware of being moved, lifted up. He tried to pry his eyes open but didn’t manage until he was lowered onto a soft surface. He blinked up, as his head sank into the fluffy pillow of Sebastian’s bed, and had a warm blanket pulled over his form.

Sebastian was bowing over him, and here, in the half-light, there were no disguises, no defenses between them. Blaine could feel safe, and happy, and at the same time, Sebastian could allow the relief bleeding from him as he looked at Blaine, softly stroking his cheek.

Blaine took his hand, calmed by just this point of contact.

“Sebastian?” he muttered.

“Hm?”

“Thank you,” Blaine said. “For being there… and not giving up on me… even when I was being a mess, even with how hard it was for you.” He sighed, fighting off his exhaustion just a bit longer.

Sebastian looked at him, open and vulnerable, and Blaine realized that right now, nothing mattered as much as making him see.

“You saved me, Sebastian. In every way. Thank you.”

Sebastian blinked, and Blaine could have sworn he’d blinked away a tear or two, but before he could think too much about it, Sebastian was bowing down, kissing him. It wasn’t soft like their earlier kiss tonight, but rather raw, just a bit desperate, like all the turmoil that Sebastian had carried around with him had finally found an outlet. At some point Blaine would ask him, how he had felt during all this. Soon, when he himself was just a bit more stable. For now, he just kissed back, allowing the other man’s weight to ground him, Sebastian’s arm cocoon him and remind him, that he was safe, still alive…

As he drifted off to sleep, there was one more thought.

Finally, blessedly, he was free.


	11. Epilogue: No More Talk Of Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, the final chapter of this story, that honestly grew a bit beyond what I started out to write. I honestly didn't know it would be this emotional, and honestly at times just a bit drainning to write. So now, after all the angst, some more catharsis for a hopeful future.
> 
> Thank you so much to all of you who read this story, who commented and shared your theories with me. Loved your engagement, loved hearing your thoughts, I hope you enjoy the epilogue, and can't wait to see you in the next story.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

Blaine woke just a bit earlier than expected, judging from the dim light and the birds singing outside. The other side of the bed was empty, although some warmth still lingered in the sheets. He closed his eyes again, just for a moment, to appreciate the moment – the sounds from outside, birds, traffic, a soft clatter from the kitchen, the softness of the pillow he was resting on, the sheets on his skin… Deep breaths, in and out, as he let the feeling run through him, lift the corners of his mouth in a smile, as he felt a nervous excitement bubbling inside him.

He had missed this feeling. For so long, excitement had been more like dread. But this was different. This said, _Something’s Coming_. The excitement stepping on stage for a competition. The first day of school, basically.

Yes, this would be good.

He got to his feet, quickly disabling his alarm, about fifteen minutes before it was set to go off, and walked out of the bedroom – Sebastian’s bedroom, technically. From the open floor plan, he could see the kitchen area, where Sebastian was leaning against a counter, a bowl held in his left arm as he was whipping something inside, a plate with a stack of toast beside him. He didn’t even flinch when Blaine walked up behind him, slipping an arm around his waist.

“Morning,” he muttered, kissing the skin between Sebastian’s shoulder blades. “You’re up early.”

“Could say the same thing about you,” Sebastian replied, putting down the bowl before turning around and kissing him properly.

When he pulled back, Blaine took a look at the content of the bowls. “What are you making?” he asked.

“Breakfast,” Sebastian said with a smirk, for which Blaine swatted at him, laughing. “French toast,” Sebastian added. He raised an eyebrow at the expression on Blaine’s face, which he knew betrayed how touched he felt. “What, did you think I’d forget your big day?”

Blaine laughed. “It’s not that big,” he said.

Sebastian snorted. “What, your first day at a real job in the real world? I think it is.”

Blaine bit his lip and looked down, trying to hide at least a little how elated he felt at this. And yes, fine, so maybe he did think it was a big deal. He just still wasn’t used to feelings like that actually being validated.

“How about you take a shower, and when you’re done, we can probably eat,” Sebastian suggested, even as he let a hand glide down Blaine’s back.

“Sounds like a plan,” Blaine muttered against Sebastian’s skin. One last kiss, and he managed to remove himself from his boyfriend.

As he walked to the bathroom, he let his thoughts drift. They had never really defined what they were, never had “the talk” or discussed what they meant to each other. Blaine was surprised how well it worked. After he’d basically moved in right after that disaster of a failed opening night, Sebastian had put up a bed into his former study, transforming it into a room for Blaine to stay. It had been slightly murky at the beginning – they both clearly had feelings for each other, and Blaine found himself in Sebastian’s bed more often than not, but it had still been complicated, with Blaine trying to keep his head during the divorce. Thankfully, it hadn’t been contested. Kurt probably wanted to be done with their marriage as much as he did. Once that was done, though, Blaine had felt… free, and ready to completely throw himself into his relationship with Sebastian.

It was ridiculous just how much his life had changed within the last months. Back then, everything had been dark, bleak, draining in a way he hadn’t even been able to put into words. And now?

Effexor had proven to be a life saver, although Blaine made very sure to never _ever_ delve into just how literal he meant that. Therapy had helped him change his outlook, and properly let go of the guilt he’d been carrying around. Only now that the weight had lifted, he could really tell how oppressive it had been.

Really, looking back, it had been much worse than his fear of the stalker. At least that was something he didn’t have to worry about anymore. Chandler was sitting in jail and wouldn’t get out anytime soon. The trial had been surprisingly fast. In the end, it had all started with the goddamn notes. Chandler had walked in on Kurt writing one, and after an explanation had decided this was the perfect solution – creepy notes, that would slowly get more intense until Blaine would run screaming. And once that hadn’t proven effective, that’s when the accidents had started, and… escalated. On a level, it had helped to hear what had happened, although Chandler’s motivation hadn’t been expanded upon beyond his rambling after opening night. But mostly, Blaine was relieved he’d never have to see the man ever again. He had other things to focus on.

He hadn’t even noticed how narrow his world had become, until it opened up again. For too long, everything had revolved around Kurt, and the theater. Rachel had tried, but she was too close to everything to properly see it. His social circle had all but disappeared over the years. He’d pushed his family away on Kurt’s behalf, when he couldn’t bear having them try to push Blaine to turn away from theater, towards something more stable. They’d never gotten along, and Blaine had insisted on siding with Kurt.

But Cooper had called him the day after Chandler’s failed assassination attempt, his parents had gotten on the plane as soon as they heard, and his mother had cried while promising to never abandon him again. His father, touched in a way he clearly wasn’t comfortable with, had taken it on himself to pay Blaine’s part of their debts, only to make things easier.

And now…

He had his family back, even Cooper had settled down enough that staying in touch was possible. Blaine hadn’t even known that he was an uncle, and his niece definitely was another motivation to get his life together. He’d finally managed to reconnect with his friends, Sam especially, who wasn’t even resentful about the distance Blaine had put between them, unwilling to listen to how toxic his marriage had become. He was a bit surprised there was no “I told you so”, but that was probably because Sam was too nice for this world, and definitely a better friend than Blaine deserved.

He stopped himself at this thought. Not helpful, he reminded himself, the words tinged by the slight accent of his therapist, Phoebe.

Besides, Santana’s “I told you so” was enough for a dozen people. Blaine had taken that with all the necessary humility and was rewarded with a rare hug. It was good to have her back in his life, too, not only because she and Sebastian got along insanely well.

And of course, Rachel.

He would readily admit he’d been a bit worried how she would react to his decision to be with Sebastian. But she’d taken it in stride, stressing again and again that the only thing she cared about was his wellbeing. She’d been genuinely friendly with Sebastian, and while their first encounters outside the theater might have been a bit tense, that had soon dissolved. Really, he’d been worried that while she was fine with him ending his marriage, the relationship with Sebastian might be a step too far. But Rachel had come through for him completely, making it very clear to everyone – even Kurt – that she supported Blaine, and while she could manage being friends with both of them, if she was ever made to choose, she’d pick Blaine.

So, Rachel and Kurt weren’t exactly on speaking terms at the moment, which certainly added some awkwardness to the business relationship Jesse and Kurt still had regarding the show. At least that had taken a good turn. Blaine had known that he didn’t have it in him to play that role, but every doubt he might have had was dashed when Sebastian had taken him to the theater to collect a few of his belongings. Just looking at the façade had made him feel nauseated. He’d forced himself to step inside and officially ask Jesse to replace him. And well, Jesse had taken that literally, taking the lead role and dazzling the audience in a way Blaine readily admitted he wouldn’t have been capable of himself, not anymore. The show was successful – not the miracle Kurt had hoped for, but enough to get him out of debt, and maybe figure out what he’d do with his life. Whatever he’d end up deciding, Blaine was kind of glad that it didn’t concern him anymore.

He had his own future to take care of. And a day to seize.

By the time he walked out of the bathroom, his curls loosely styled, but deliberately not glued down, Sebastian had already fried a stack of toasts. On the counter, there was a can of whipped cream, a bowl with mixed sugar and cinnamon, and another one with cut up fruit. Most importantly, the French press was filled with black, steaming coffee.

Sebastian flipped the last piece of toast, and turned around to him, letting his eyes wander from the top of his curls to his still bare feet. He winked at Blaine, a wide grin on his face.

“Well, aren’t you rocking the hot teacher look,” he said.

Blaine laughed, shaking his head.

“How’s breakfast going?” he asked.

“Almost done, you can sit.”

Blaine hummed along to the radio as he put on bowls on the table, then poured coffee for the both of them. A moment later, Sebastian followed him with his stack of French toast.

Besides that bubbly, happy excitement, there was still a bit of nerves. Hawkings was an amazing school – a private school, that reminded him a lot of Dalton – and he’d done fine during the summer class he’d taught in preparation. But now, he’d start an actual job. It was still something different.

“You’re already thinking too much,” Sebastian said, watching him over his coffee mug. “Spill.”

Blaine bit his lip, wondering for a moment whether he should speak. But then again, that was the beautiful thing about being with Sebastian – never having to hold back.

“I’m just a bit nervous,” he admitted. “Jokes aside, this actually is a pretty big deal for me.”

“You’ll blow them away,” Sebastian said. “Give it two months, and I’ll need a stick to fight off all the obsessed students and parents with a crush on you.”

Blaine snorted. “Sure,” he said. “Let’s look into mass restraining orders. That’s going to make for an easy start.”

Sebastian grinned and pierced another piece of French toast with his fork. “What are you even worried about?”

Blaine shrugged. “Maybe that I’ll end up being awful at it. Or maybe that they’ll hate me.”

Sebastian blinked, and then he started laughing. With a sudden lightness Blaine realized how special this was – that he could joke like this, when just a few months ago he’d seriously thought this way. More importantly, he loved how Sebastian could read him so well, enough to understand what he meant.

“They’ll love you,” Sebastian said eventually. “And if they don’t, then to hell with them. We’ll find the perfect school for you, and if we have to go back to Dalton. Just saying, I’m pretty sure if you told them you’re looking for a job they’ll create on just for you…”

Blaine grinned. “Like I could leave you behind here.”

“Eh, I’ll work remotely,” Sebastian said, “But that reminds me, we should totally go through our old stuff, see if we can find a Dalton tie, or two. I could think of a ways we could use them…”

“Oh, shut up!” Blaine was laughing too much to sound anything even close to strict, but when he calmed down, he started to realize what Sebastian had done. The nervousness had mostly dissolved. Not completely, sure, but he figured some nerves were warranted.

Still smiling, he took Sebastian’s hand and squeezed it just for a moment in a silent thank you. From the glint in Sebastian’s eyes he could tell that he understood. He allowed himself to enjoy this moment, just for a bit – the morning sun, the sweetness of the French toast still lingering on his lips, Sebastian smiling, carefree and happy, and he himself – light, free, and ready to start a new life.

“It’s going to be okay, isn’t it?” Blaine asked, intertwining their fingers.

When Sebastian looked at him, the pride was shining from his eyes.

“Go and get them, killer.”

And, well, he definitely planned to.


End file.
